Fibro, Melanin and Emotion: Security Level HIGH

I started this blog and chose its name as a way to redefine my life and move forward in that identity. My other motivator was to share my story so that other sufferers might feel seen and respected for their daily grind.

Since I committed to the blog name I’m Not Fibro, my thoughts have settled in on the name and made me take a good look at all facets of myself. While I see that as a positive exercise in self-discovery and affirmation, I also see it more clearly in terms of my current reality.

I am most certainly NOT fibromyalgia, but I do have FM and there’s hardly a day that passes that I’m not brutally reminded of that fact. My goal is to not let FM define who I am, but to live all facets of my life as best I can, while coping with FM.

If you have Fibromyalgia, then you know that it is a chronic illness that thrives on invading your life in as many ways as possible; sometimes multiple ways at once. It’s hard to completely ignore the pain, brain fog, and sheer exhaustion of battling FM. Even though I am able to compartmentalize some aspects of FM, the mental and emotional components are ever present. They color my every thought and decision.

I had planned to pick up my story where I left off in my first post. However, as I sat holding our five month old grandson in my arms watching him sleep so peacefully, my emotions took over. I could easily say that the past week has been emotionally stressful for many Americans and that would be true. In my case, and that of many FM warriors, it’s been an even bigger war waged against our bodies and our minds. It’s a proven fact that stress exacerbates flare ups, making the tears streaming down my face even more poignant than the historical relevance of the moments we’ve just witnessed in history. No matter your political persuasion, I believe one thing that we can agree on is the fact that all grandparents want the best for their grandchildren. We want a better life for them than the one that we live. I stared into our biracial grandson’s face today feeling more hope than I have felt at any time since his birth. I started praying for his safety, success and happiness before he was born. He is a “Covid year baby” which comes with its own set of challenges and missed opportunities. Even more, he is a biracial baby who seems “precious” to many, but may very well be seen as threatening to some as a teenager and an adult.

If any of you reading this wonders what this post has to due with fibromyalgia, stay with me please.

No matter how different our lives may be I implore you to try to imagine mine or at least, respect it. I’m an educated woman with a loving family and many things to be grateful for. I am also a Black woman who has experienced first hand the emotional effects of direct and indirect racism. As a child I listened to my parents’ teachings about our family heritage and pride. At the same time, I was taught, in lesson and modeled behavior, how to successfully assimilate into white society. My parents were not “sell outs” as some would claim. There were realists who knew the American burden of walking around highly melanated. They recognized their responsibility to teach me these lessons alongside those of racial and ethnic pride. For those less melanated, just know that this is a perilous parental tightrope on which to balance.

So, back to my sleeping grandson. I have so many thoughts and prayers for the future of America and the world. One of the biggest ones is that our own children will not have to feel compelled to walk the perilous, parental tightrope of ethnicity and race. I pray that they don’t have to have “the talk” with their children. I pray for a different world. A world where loving grandparents aren’t gazing at their innocent grandchildren of color saying the prayers that I am today. My tears today are ones of exhaustion from the past, of petition and prayer and of hope for the future.

Now where, you might ask, does fibromyalgia fit into this post? First of all, this FM warrior is far more emotional than I was pre-FM. My husband and family might try to convince you that I’ve always cried at the drop of a hat. I would argue that with FM, I cry practically at the mere sight of said hat!

Secondly, one of the many lessons that FM has taught me is that time is short and things change in the blink of an eye. I’ve learned to own my feelings and defend my peace.

So, watch out world! This GiGi is walking around out there some days especially hyped up emotionally and ready to defend her grandchild and future grandchildren’s peace.