I'm not quite sure whether to feel relieved at the validation, or horrified by the validation. There's a lot of overlap between trauma and fibromyalgia. Somehow having this medical label stuck on me feels more intense than PTSD or a dissociative disorder did. Even though I was pretty sure I have it. Just another step in making things real, I suppose.
Okay, a day later and I have decided I feel relieved.
There is a deeply analytical part of me that really responds to categories. As long as they are useful. At some point, categories cease to become useful and are more ridiculous.
I was just reading a book about trans people for example. Talk about categories getting confusing...it's fine and clear if you are a male to female transgender or a female to male transgender in just identity or in both identity and expression. But when you throw in differences in sexual orientation, things start to get ridiculous. Like this: so if I feel like I should be a man (transgender) but do not want to transition physically (so not transexual), that's fairly clear. But I am physically attracted only to men. So, if I stay female physically, then I am, technically, heterosexual. If I were to transition, then I would be, technically, homosexual. So what am I as I am? I've mostly decided on the category "queer." Because I don't fit anywhere really. Or maybe "two-spirit." Although I ought to be called "multi-spirit."
They talk about third and fourth genders in a lot of native american writing. But these are people who fit into neater categories: men who identify and express as women while still having a male body and who have sexual relationships with other men, and occasionally women (third gender). It's similar in reverse for female to male trans (fourth gender). But I think there's a lot more. Like at least a fifth and sixth gender. But once you go that far, the categories start to get pretty silly and you have to conclude that categorization is helpful only to a point. I like the more current use of "two-spirit" but I think it is still limiting.
Anyway, because of the new label I have of "fibromyalgia," I am thinking about categories. I am thinking that this new diagnosis really doesn't change much at all about what I am doing on this healing path. It only legitimizes it a little bit from a medical standpoint--as in, I can now access some alternative therapies for less money, although most of them still cost. And I think I will be able to switch to an internist who has a lot of understanding of mind body medicine (unlike my internist of 25 years). This will be good for me. It will also ensure that if I ever end up in the situation I ended up in during April, I will be sent to the right place this time. Although I hope I will not need that again.
And, somehow, "fibromyalgia" is a label that is much easier to say to people who ask what is wrong with me when they see me walk. People are familiar with it because of the drug commercials for Lyrica on television. So it is much easier to say that than explaining "chronic pain" or PTSD which often leads to more questions. I mean, I know I am not required to explain anything to anyone, but some of these people are friends who have just not seen me walking for these three years and suddenly notice that there is something very wrong.
I am seriously considering getting two canes so I can walk better. I almost bought them yesterday but...couldn't quite manage it. I used hiking poles when we went to pick up my daughter at camp, and they helped tremendously! I still overdid it, but was able to walk much further with more comfort with those sticks. But you can't use them indoors really. Somehow, parts of me feel like using canes is giving up. But I am beginning to think that it is the opposite--that perhaps using canes would allow me to move around MORE. That the issue is really that I do not want to call attention to myself. I used crutches for several months last year and was forever getting questions. Perhaps canes would inspire fewer questions. I wonder.
Well, lots of pondering going on for the early morning. I think perhaps it is time to do something less verbal. My knitting is sitting here awaiting me. Cool vest I'm making. Whack-a-doodle as I bought the fancy yarn on sale and do not have enough of any one color to do the whole vest, so I'm mixing it up a bit. It could end up cool. Or it could end up hideous. We'll see. I hope for the former. But, if it is hideous, I will rip it out and make an afghan with lots of different color blocks. I have to do something with this lusciously wonderful yarn...merino, alpaca, and silk, hand-dyed in the most delicious colors! I get to return to the yarn store this weekend...which is the only thing that is giving me pleasure contemplating as we get ready to return to the farm for the annual family reunion. Talk about mixed up energy. Three family branches, scores of folks, and lots of unspoken and spoken judgments and agendas. YUCK! And they're not even my blood family...just my in-law family.
Today is here in full now. 7:18 AM. People and animals are stirring. I've used 75% of my computer's battery power. Had two cups of coffee. Will knit a bit and contemplate my choices for the day. God. That sounds so, well, healthy. Cool!
