I wrote the following last August as a way to mark the 10-year anniversary of my diagnosis with fibromyalgia. In honor of Fibromyalgia Awareness Day, I want to share my story in hopes of raising awareness, overcoming stereotypes, and celebrating the good that has come to me as a result of the condition.

If you or anyone you know is coping with fibromyalgia, I encourage you to please participate in today’s Bloggers Unite event. Your support will mean more than you know. 

Not all anniversaries are happy ones

Nearly 10 years ago today, I was sitting in a doctor’s office with my mom and older brother having blood drawn for all kinds of tests. I will never forget how I felt at that moment. It was an incredible mix of emotions…love, for my brother being there with me; fear, for not only the doctor’s office but the wide mix of possible diagnoses I could receive; and hunger, as I was unable to eat anything for 24-hours prior to the appointment.

I was 20 at the time and just about to begin my junior year of college. I had started feeling odd about a year or so prior to this; I remember my legs giving out from under me while on my way to school during a J-term trip to England and since then the aches and other pains increased in severity and duration. And I was tired. So, so tired. All I ever wanted to do was sleep. As you can imagine, this didn’t make me very popular amongst my peers and when I needed them most, friends slowly began their retreat. The hurt of absolute aloneness was by far more difficult to manage than the physical. You can’t take Aleve for solitude.

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