Dealing with the Three Versions of Me

This is going to be another one of my Fibromyalgia rants. I had a bad few days last week and feel the urge to pontificate on things.

Looking back over my life, I now believe that I've always been a fibromyalgic. For most of my life, it's been mild. I was never a super-healthy kid, but my insane mountain-biking metabolism kept me going through high school and into college. Even back then, I was sick a lot with migraines, muscle aches, GERD and horrible sinus infections. When I stopped riding all-together after hurting my neck at 25, I saw my metabolism change and never regained a high-level of activity. I muddled through. It wasn't until the last two years when WHAM the muddling stopped working. I've contemplated why my ability to cope and the level of discomfort sky-rocketed these last 2 years. I understand now that it wasn't one thing. My weight gain, horrible commute, changing metabolism and environmental factors all had to be contributors.

The massive lifestyle changes that I've been going through for the last 6 months have really helped. The biggest factor is Slick. Her love and understanding has enabled me to focus on my health. I hope it's helped both of us. My weight is down, sinus infections are down and my recovery time is faster.

That said, let me focus on the title of this post, "Dealing with the three versions of me." I wanted to write this out so I could explain how things are really going. I've basically talked about this before.

Version 1: Feels Good
Version 2: Eh, I'm OK
Version 3: I feel like crap

You can say, "That sounds like everyone." Well, yes but no. Now, this isn't scientifically documented but I think this will help people understand things a little better.

Age Range: time spent feeling good/eh/crap
34+: 25%/50%/25%
32-34: 10%/40/50%
25-32: 50% /35% /15%

So, what does this mean? I figure that the average person is 60/30/10 or better. This means that they spend most of their time fully functional, partly "eh" & occasionally sick. You can dispute this, but this is my opinion. Before I got sick, I was below the curve but doing good. After I got sick, I was bad. Good days were hard to find. Now, I have equal good and bad days. I live in the middle.

So, what does it mean to live in the middle? It means that I wake up every day feeling iffy. If I have the energy I can push myself to accomplish stuff. I always function like someone who needs a break. I rarely ever can give my best effort to anything. Yet, I consider this to be a huge improvement. I'm functioning. I'm able to live a semi-normal life. My wife, doctor and I all see the progress.

There are some indications that this is as good as it gets. Do I accept that? Do I double my efforts? I don't have actual answers. Actually, I just have more questions.

Even if this is as good as it gets, I do have a desire to move forward. After 6 months of totally focusing on me, I'm thinking about the next 6 months differently. How do I maintain the good changes and start focusing on doing more than just getting healthy? What activities should I spend my time on? What do I want to accomplish? What needs to be accomplished? How do I keep myself from making the same old mistakes?

That brings me back full circle to life feeling "eh." It's hard. I have to motivate myself every day. I have to listen to my body constantly. Too much pushes me over the edge. Too little slides me back down. Usually, walking the dog is a good benchmark. If I've got energy after walking the dog, I set my mind to accomplishing things. If I don't, I try to relax. That's all well and good, but what happens when I have multiple post-walk days sans-energy?

This rambling rant is not an effort to start a pity party. I'm just putting thought to virtual-paper. Today, I got the dog walked and just want to rest. I feel, however, that I need to push myself today. I'm not sure I can. And that's the biggest frustration about the here and now. I don't want to go back to where I was 6 months ago and I know I can't go back to where I was 3 years ago. And so, I put one foot in front of the other, just like everyone else.