Another day ... another problem

I am at my wits end. FMS has been taking small pieces of me away for 3 years. My vibrance, my energy, my muscle mass, my curved figure, my love for life, my life outside the home, my sanity, and now ... intimate moments with my husband.  Sexual activity, even when it would hurt the joints and muscles, was still better than no sex.  My husband has been my rock through thick and thin for the past 16 years.  He has always been there to catch me when I fall, wipe away the tears and give me encouragement when I think I just can't live another day with this demon called Fibromyalgia. Sex is the one thing that makes me feel like a woman.  Now part of that may be over for me. The combination of FMS, the drugs I take for FMS and CFS and depression has now caused me to not be able to achieve orgasm.  I pray my husband will love me regardless of what happens to me. I am scared he will run across a woman like I used to be. The woman he first fell in love with. As if I didn't have enough to be depressed about. I wish I could just yell from the mountain tops how angry I am about this damn disease! I HATE IT!!!!

When I was a kid, I was taught to suck it up. I had perfect attendance several years in school When I was sick, I went to school. As an adult, when I didn't feel good, I went to work.  I cashed in my unused sick leave on a yearly basis. When I went to church, I gave all that I had physically and mentally.

I was taught things will get better, just keep your chin up.  Well guess what? Things are NOT getting better and I just don't know how to handle everything. My fake smile has now turned to a constant grimace. I can't even fake it anymore.

 My husband and I used to be the link to pull everyone together.  We had parties, dinners and were the ones to call others to catch up.  I have no energy for what it takes to put together a party. I don't know how I will feel, so we don't call to make dinner plans.  Guess what?  No invites for dinner. No "let's get together if you are feeling ok."  As a matter of fact, no one ever asks me how I feel. I guess they think I got miraculously cured! I take a small piece of that back. My mom asks how I am, only because she called to talk about what's going on with her life. My sister DOES ask and care about how I am. They are only a few out of the huge family and friends I have ... or had.

I have lost myself to FMS. This is the worst part of the disease.  It has taken away the definition of who I am. Maybe people just don't know who I am anymore either.  I am 45 years old. I don't know how to reinvent myself. Especially, with the disability of FMS.

I am tired of crying myself to sleep at night, feeling I have no purpose ... that I am worthless.