Fibro and Me

I was 19 when I first felt the pain that I would become so accustomed to. Home from college for the summer, I decided to attempt my first Zumba class with a few friends at the new arena in town. I remember feeling a really weird sensation in my legs – specifically in my quads. It was strange. Unlike any muscle pain I had ever experienced before.  

I was not an active person. I was very sedentary. I used to say with pride that I was a ‘musician, not an athlete’. I spent the summer working for my Dad and the pain came back and came back often. Always in my legs.

Fibromyalgia looks different person to person. And while doctors keep trying to explain why it happens to people and attempting to label it, I firmly (and perhaps controversially) believe that it is a blanket diagnosis for undiagnosable chronic pain. In fact, when I was officially diagnosed – at 19 – it was very rare. Most of the people who suffered from this rather unknown thing were women over 50. It was very strange for someone my age to be diagnosed and we were just coming out of the years where people complaining of this pain were put in insane asylums because doctors didn’t believe them. I don’t look like I’m sick. So how dare I complain about pain?  

I was diagnosed at a walk in clinic in Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, when I went back to college that following fall. I was by myself when I got the news. They ran a series of tests and eventually said to me ‘You have fibromyalgia. There’s nothing we can do for you. Good luck. Oh – you’re probably also depressed’. That was it. No guidance. No reassurance. No real explanation about what it was. No support. Nothing. I knew nothing.  

It was my second year of college. I was working with a full course load, juggling a job, a choir, singing lessons and practice time. It was a lot. I had to readjust how I did life. I tried everything to keep my stress down. Projects and papers were completed early. I tried to study in advance for exams. It was a hard time for me. Trying to be on top of things in order to handle my stress made me more stressed out than before.   

Finally, at the end of my 4th year, I called my Mom and told her that I was going to kill myself if I had to keep going like this. I couldn’t do it. Doctors weren’t giving me any help. Pain killers didn’t work – and I didn’t want to become dependent on them at such a young age anyway. She quickly sprung into action and found me a wholistic doctor back in Alberta. It was the summer time, but I was still living on campus and working. I quit my job and moved back home for a few weeks. Thousands of dollars and more blood tests and needle pricks than I can count later, we had help.  

Through this whole thing, I found my naturopath. I will talk about her a lot, as she’s still in my life. My Mom and my naturopath saved me. They helped start me on the journey that I am on today.  

Now I take care of my fibromyalgia through daily workouts, low impact walks and cycling, dietary restraints and a small amount of supplements.  

I am closer to 40 than I would like to admit. I am still in constant pain. Sometimes it feels unbearable. Sometimes I push myself too hard. I know that if I’m pushing to complete a big hike up a mountain that I’m going to have to take the next few days easy. But I know my body now. I can read it. I understand it. Sometimes I calculate wrong and need to sleep for days on end to recover. But that’s a risk I’m willing to take in order to live a full life.  

I don’t remember what it’s like to not be in pain. It’s not a concept that I can understand. But I can say without a doubt that my pain has made me the person that I am today. It has made me push harder than I ever thought I would. I don’t think that I would chase mountain summits and pursue thru hikes if I didn’t have this struggle, this battle. So in a way, I’m thankful.  

My hope is that by learning about my journey and getting to know the honest struggles and mistakes that I’ve made along the way, that you too will become okay with your pain. Yes – most days I hate it. I still cry. I still have moments of extreme depression. But for the most part, I am okay. My hope and prayer is that you will be too.