I was molested as a child. Today I clarified that to a new friend that I wasn't merely "molested." I was tortured. And I cannot begin to describe the physical pain that occurred, but it is even more difficult to truly express the more intense pain that was a part of my life from that first experience and every day until today--and will probably continue for many more days and years and decades....

This was a relative of mine that presented me with this pain, this toture. For several years, he was there at every turn. He secreted me away at any given moment in the day, he'd pull me out of my bed at night, he'd follow me and watch me as I used the bathroom, he'd be there at every turn.... He'd play games that always turned into a new opportunity for him to touch me or use me in ways that weren't anywhere approaching "appropriate."

To demonstrate how young I was, how little I knew about the situation, one day I wandered in on my parents "in the act." My mother was moaning.... I turned around and left without saying a word. In my mind, not knowing how good sex can be--and, therefore, assuming the sounds my mother made were expressions of pain--I had the impression that boys/males were part of a club that had dominion over females--and that we, as girls/females, should just expect to endure the pain and not complain. Remember, though I saw my mother in what I thought was pain, she never complained....

That thought was reinforced when his friends began to follow his lead and he showed them how to watch me...to find me. One night, his friend spent the night at our house, and his friend came to my bed in the middle of the night, and he touched me and asked me if I liked it...the first time I had been asked such a thing, and I said "no." To my amazement, he walked away. Shortly after that, I said "no." It took some repeatings and some definite moves on my part to show that I meant to scream so loud that everyone knew that it let up a bit, and only after my parents split up and this person was no longer a part of my every day life that I didn't literally walk in fear every day....

But, you know, I never told anyone. I had been convinced that if I told my parents or anyone else that I would be punished. I knew that I was not supposed to take my clothes off, and I did this. The first time it happened, I took some change in order to let him see me without pants. Not knowing what could happen when a girl took her pants off, I didn't really know why we shouldn't be alone with a male, let alone take our pants off. And then he said I hadn't earned my money, and then came the real pain....! And then I was convinced that I would be in more pain if I were to tell anyone what happened-because, you know, I was naughty for taking off my pants. And that's how it started.....and it never seemed to end.

And to this day, I think about that pain...and that hurt...and that betrayal....and the fact that I kept it a secret. My family was so dysfunctional that we kept all kinds of secrets, more than you can imagine, and not just on sexual molestation issues. We were secretive about everything.

I have taught my children to be straightforward and to not keep secrets. Not just to always tell the truth, but to not keep secrets. This was very hard because their father is from a family that also keeps secrets...and they have somehow learned to take a middle road by being straightforward--and, if someone tells them "just between you and me," they don't just let that slip by. They make it clear that if they are told something in confidence, they will keep that confidence--but not if it will hurt someone or if it is something that needs to be told. However, they also make it clear that they do honor the request whenever possible, but they don't like gossip and they won't keep the kinds of secrets that tend to turn into gossip after a while. And, I don't really know how it evolved, but these young adults are more respected in their circles of friends than anyone else I know. I like to think it's because I have impressed upon them the importance of being straightforward and not allowing secrets to ruin lives.

I just wish I could somehow practice that thought!

People with fibromyalgia face a challenge not faced by other people with ailments that are easily recognized. While none would want such painful issues that is inherent in other conditions, those with fibromyalgia are faced with a hidden issue that no one recognizes--and therein lies the rub!

People with fibromyalgia do not display obvious, sympathy-getting concerns. Instead, witnesses view people who whine and complain while taking every opportunity possible to lie down and sleep. Witnesses view people who aren't in wheelchairs, who don't have braces to support their limbs, who don't use inhalers, who don't use monitors to measure a blood level, who don't suddenly fall to the ground in a seizure, nor who even so much as have a simple rash or wear a simple bandaid. Witnesses view people with strong muscles and unimpaired intelligence, people that can talk with intelligence.
They don't have fevers, and there's no obvious sign of any kind of physical disability.

Except, of course, they do appear a bit lazy. They take naps all the time, and they don't just volunteer to take the lead in simple tasks like cleaning or even taking simple walks. And, somewhat confusing, fibromyalgia people either complain constantly about their physical pain--or they make no complaints at all. Personally, I suspect those who have recently been diagnosed will complain more than those who have had the diagnosis for a longer time. Newly diagnosed fibro people are so happy that they finally have a diagnosis that they're glad to talk about it; but, for those who've been long-diagnosed, after a while the audience doesn't want to hear the complaints--because the complaints don't match with the fake reality that the audience repeatedly sees. The physical aspects of the patient don't match with the words of the patient, and after witnessing this incongruency a number of times, the audience goes with their innate faith in their own opinions--and turn off the ability to hear about the pain and the fatigue.

And that attitude makes me feel worse. The fibro is bad enough, but to know that those who know you best don't really understand or believe you is very disheartening. I fight hard to keep going, to do those things that must get done--to prioritize tasks so that my energy goes to the most important, and the less important tasks never get done. And, after a while, those small things get noticed--and people start to just get tired of what would be excuses in any other person. In keeping with their reality, then, the fibro person appears to them to be making excuses for not completing all the "to do" tasks on that list that never gets any shorter.

I don't know that there's anything ever going to change this attitude of audiences that are following their instincts and what they see as normal. But I really wish that fibro were recognized by more people as a legitimate concern that is painful and exhausting--instead, they make us feel guilty for feeling these things. I don't know why we feel guilty when there is a legitimate concern, but we do--and I think it's just because the audience wants us to feel that. The audience wants to communicate to lazy people that they need to get off their butts and do something...and, unfortunately, fibro people look lazy. And we don't want to feel lazy. We don't want other people to think we are lazy. So, we push ourselves--and, guess what that does to people with fibro? When we push ourselves, our symptoms get worse, so the lazy appearance gets worse.

So, what do we do? I think just keep on doing only what we can...comfortably. And we should not listen to the audience, only ourselves and our doctors. And we will then make it through another day!

I have been sick for months. Two bouts of what the doctor said I could refer to as walking pneumonia have kept me coughing and feeling tired and miserable almost all of 2008. Friday, I thought I had a head cold with a bad cough. I wanted to get off work early but needed an excuse, so I thought I would make a doctor's appointment and then go home. As I sat waiting in the doctor's office, with him helping his preceding appointments in nearby rooms, I coughed and coughed and then coughed some more. As soon as he knocked on the door, I stopped coughing--so I figured he'd tell me I had a cold and to go home and rest.

Nope. He said he heard me coughing in the other rooms, and he said it was a hard cough that we had to do something about. If I were a child, he said, he'd say I have asthma--but I am an adult that has not had the requisite pulmonary testing, so he'd just call it reactive airways and treat it exactly as he would asthma. $56 worth of medicine later (my portion, not including whatever the insurance company pays) and four prescriptions later, I was on my way home...to take medicine and sleep. That's all fine--until today, two days later, I took the medicine and I was in bed an hour later totally unable to stay awake. The cough medicine is the only thing that said it could make me drowsy, the others all could make me jittery or overactive. But that cough medicine must really do a number on people. And on the cough! Thursday night I lay in bed for at least 1-1/4 hours, coughing and retching, thinking I just had a bad cold, and that has reduced to a few short clear-your-throat type of coughs...until this afternoon, when I had one more of my coughing jags.

The worst part about the diagnosis, though, is that I went online and found out that the term "reactive airway" is pretty much a term that no one ever uses any more under most circumstances. You should just refer to it as "asthma." I wonder why they are so reluctant to use that term. Of course, this doctor said that the reactive airway thing happens almost always after a viral infection, of which I've definitely demonstrated to be true. Maybe the term is used only under certain circumstances. I don't know. I just know it is good to know that I didn't have just a head cold, but it was expensive.

And, I discovered that yawning does actually deliver air to the lungs! I always yawn a bit strangely, I've thought. My yawns take in air in a rather whirlwind kind of sound...and then kind of stops at the back of my mouth at the opening to the throat. I could never feel air enter my lungs, so I have always strongly doubted that yawns truly deliver more air to the lungs. In fact, I thought it was somehow doing something that stopped the air from going to the lungs. But, after using all four medications, for the first time I can remember, I felt my lungs fill with air while yawning. I am truly impressed! When I used to yawn, people around me would think I was surprised about something because it sounded like a person who is strongly gasping as they get surprised. Not me. To me, it was just a yawn--and when I yawned once, the body just kept on yawning, again and again, until I went to sleep. So, now, I wonder if maybe it's asthma that is stopping air going through my airways as I breathe? I think I'll ask my doctor when I visit him againp--and, hopefully, that will be a while.

I hope I have a job for a long time. The situation at work is up and down every other day. Since last August, we're all afraid we're going to lose our jobs after our parent company was acquired by a much larger company. A few people were laid off, but most stayed--but yesterday we were told we didn't make enough money and missed our goal by $1M. They didn't give us credit for the $19M we did make, and considering all the challenges in the past year (we acquired two companies and then were acquired, ourselves--and the company that acquired us didn't do too well, either--and we had lots of delivery challenges, and more....), so we were feeling a bit down yesterday. Today, we had another meeting, and more positive news showed that we have good potential for a good future....nothing for sure. Tomorrow, it will probably go the other way. We'll have to see how it goes.

But this is stressful, and I hope the new company tells us soon what the bigger picture is so we know what we are supposed to be doing. It's very frustrating, and I don't like it!

What is the difference between a flashback and a memory? If memories try to crowd into your head at every moment you don't think, then is that a flashback trying to happen? Or is it just a bad memory that you are trying to forget?

What if you find a morbid pleasure in recalling that memory, in needing to recall it at secret moments, then locking it away at every other moment? Is that really a memory, or a flashback? Or maybe something else? What is that recollection?

Does it have to be something? Other than the obvious? Can we fill our minds with something else to not allow that memory? Or empty our brains so that only that memory can happen? Do we even have such control? Is our brain wanting that memory--or is that memory something that happens because of the way neurons connect in an automatic process? Do we have that choice?

Do we have answers? Do we know? Do we want to know? Can we ever put those memories into a neat little place that cannot bother us any more? What do we do with our memories? What do we want to do with our memories? What do memories do to us?