I hurt, period. And my husband keeps getting mad at me because I forget things. He still thinks fibro is a "phantom disease" and that fibro fog is an excuse I use to explain why I am not paying enough attention to certain things. And I do seem to get "lost in the fog". But I don't want to. I sit in group (I'm in an intensive day program to
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And the thing is, I've been trying to do too much. Today, it was like my body and my mind just said, "Kathleen, you are not going to work on your memoirs today. You are lying down, and you are taking a nap. NOW!" Luckily, I was home when it happened.
Did I write a "long-ass post?" I don't remember. Fibro-fog.
Well, I'm up, now. Time to do dishes so we can eat. At least there's not a huge amount of lifting or thinking involved.
K.
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Emotional abuse is still abuse.
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Oh, well. I'm overwhelmed right now. Maybe we could stop the public scrutiny of my
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Actually, I'm sure Mark would have done the same thing if it was another woman we were driving and not me. They're different in public, aren't they? Anyway, Mark made me quesadillas when I got back. I told him I was in way too much pain to do dishes, that I would work on them tomorrow after group. He accepted that. I also told both our housemate and him that I wasn't taking any more trash out, I got hurt too badly last time. Neither of them objected, so at least I don't have to do that again.
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