Basic household cleaning can stress both your brain and your body when you have chronic illness and chronic pain. These simple tips might help to alleviate some of the problems, leaving you more time and energy for what you love.
GENERAL CLEANING and HOUSEHOLD TIPS
Pacing is so important but how do you start? Think 'What can you do in 5 minutes?' Pick out a chore you want to tackle, set a timer, and go! Stop when the timer goes off to prevent over exertion; if you feel pretty good after a brief rest, set it for another 5 minutes and start over.
Even on a blustery day, opening your windows for a few minutes will make your home (and your body!) feel fresher, even if you don't have the time or energy to clean.
Add MediGuard.org is conducting a quick survey on digestive health among its members* and would like to invite you to participate. Upon receipt of feedback from eligible patients, MediGuard.org will send you a $10 Mastercard gift card. (Offer good for US residents only).Please respond quickly - this survey will only be open for a short time.
NOTE: You must complete a 3 question eligibility screen before completing this survey. Completing the eligibility screen alone does NOT qualify you for the $10 compensation.
*it is free to join MediGuard.org where you get free interaction checks, safety alerts and recalls on your medicines.caption
We live with so many strong feelings when we have chronic pain conditions like fibromyalgia. Writing poetry and pouring out our emotions onto the page can be very therapeutic. It also leaves something that other people can relate to and find connection and comfort in. We hope that you can find some solace here amongst the many pain-related poems.
Kim from I Tripped Over a Stone wrote this poem of strength to Fibromyalgia. Please visit her blog for more of her Fibro journey told from her heart.
Fighting Fibromyalgia shared the poem below about Fibromyalgia asking for understanding. Please visit her blog for uplifting quotes and to read the poem clearly.
Nikki at Brainless Blogger wrote 'It Took' about Fibromyalgia. (below) She has written other poems which you can read at her blog.
I look into the mirror and I wonder I remember who you used to be Are you still the same?
I look into the mirror and I wonder Do you still want the same things? Are you still the same?
I look into the mirror and I wonder Are you still motivated and ambitious? I remember that you used to be Are you still the same?
I look into the mirror and I wonder Is this the same person that walked a half marathon? I remember when you did that Are you still the same?
I look into the mirror and I know
The pain has changed you but… You are still the same You are still caring and loving You are still passionate and giving You are still ambitious and productive
I look into the mirror and I see you Not Fibromyalgia!
The loneliness of this disease
just claws within my soul
and makes my pain
so much to bear --
a mean and nasty foe.
But the wisdom of those
simple words
console me through tough times
and soar within my soul like
birds
with love and joy divine! Visit her site to read the whole beautiful poem.
And part of the poem that inspired this post:
Isn’t it strange, how nature makes you forget, That terrible pain you have and continually get. It comes in waves when you least expect it, And you think, please stop now and give me a rest for a bit. Read the rest at Back Pain Blog
Don't Tell Me that you understand, a poem by Joanetta Hendel
My bones are getting old and tired And worn out oh so fast I’m only 56 years old I thought these bones would last
But no, they’re breaking far too quick So what’s a girl to do But drink her milk and take B12 And other vitamins too
Instead of staying up all night I go to bed at nine No more a shot of whiskey Metamucil does just fine
I wheeze through my aerobics class I huff going up the stairs I worry about incontinence And wear Depends in pairs
It’s too late now, but I sure wish I’d purchased stock in Tums I’d think about how rich I’d be Each time the heartburn comes
I hear my doctor bought a boat From what he’s earned off me He named her Patient Pamela And took her out to sea
I hope these bones decide to last At least a few more years Although they snap and crackle and pop And leave me often in tears
There still so much I want to do So hang in there, bones of mine I’ll lie for you when people ask And say, I’m feeling fine
I’ll eat the veggies, drink the milk I’ll pop the B12 too Just to keep you bones around awhile For I’m rather fond of you! From Pamela Jessen of There Is Always Hope and originally shared on The Mighty.
A Spoonie Shower
A journey needs to be made
the need is undeniable but yet is put off able:
It’s such a long way to go and so many spoons to use
for what? Some temporary respite from the endless
spite of hyperhidrosis, must I? But I do.
Each pealed off layer of clothing
exposes new layers of exhaustion
and yes this very act of preparation
causes my pores to flow, ironic I know!
As I step into the flowing water
my eyes briefly close, a mistake
because my balance goes.
This jolt of reality triggers a reflex
my hand finds the railing where it grabs hold.
With my eyes open but unseeing
my mind departs and travels abroad.
The sensation of a rainforest transports me
tropically scented gel gives pleasure to the nasal cavities
as it travels to destinations within reach.
For a few fleeting moments,
I give in to the deluge.
The water washes away all doubt
why did I delay this for so long?
For the shortest minutes, I’ve vacated a Fibro life.
But then awareness prickles my joints
as the familiar ache resumes tenure
and the moment is passed.
I must leave the enclosure and
my life resume.
So begins the chores of swaddling,
futilely rubbing at the moisture
as the cleansing waters of verticle bathing depart
I do not recognise myself standing in the many shadows of you.
You, towering, all-consuming, ever present but hidden away, in plain sight. Yet I feel you in every part of me. Trying to become me.
Not all monsters lurk like you.
Once awakened, you thrive, clamour, steal, reverberate …through the length and breath of my mortal body, Silently leaving deadly, indelible traces of your mark, like on a cracked egg, ready to fall apart, any, anytime now, but still holding itself together as the lines spread and spread, Until I am finally broken.
Your crack lines emerge in places impossible. From earthen shell to the soul and heartland of me. Breaking, smashing, pillaging anything and everything, until I am nothing of my former self; nothing of possible Me(s).
But even broken things can be beautiful. With floods of tears and streams of blood I shall, I shall put me back together again. I emerge not the ‘Me’ that once was, was to be or had been imagined with dreams for the future. I rise as someone, something else entirely–Pained but persevering. Flawed but fluid. Broken but beautiful and believing that I shall conquer. I am and will be the ‘Me’ that never was imagined. I am the ‘Me’ that’s emerged from the ashes of pain. I will not fit your cardboard cutouts or your nicely stenciled stereotypes.
And I am not sorry.
To survive, I change. Constantly. As the monster morphs so will I – imperfect still, but ready to give bloody hell in all battles to come.