Fibromyalgia really has no beginning. It comes on you gradually and threatens to take over your life just like a boiling pot of water does to a frog. It first appears solely in terms of its side effects -- IBS, TMJ, PMDD. You start to feel like you are crying out for help. Mostly because you are in fact crying. But then one day you find yourself in bed hit with the un-flu, unable to sit upright or walk more than a few steps for two weeks. Three years later you get a diagnosis and are put on medication. Finally your cry for help is validated and treated as a real illness. Now the fun part comes: finding love.
My symptoms came on when I was still married. They exacerbated an already loveless marriage that fell apart as unromantically as it was put together. Much of it was my fault. No one expects their new wife to suddenly suffer from then-inexplicable wrist pain (later diagnosed as a repetitive strain injury), the inability to digest much of anything (later diagnosed with gluten sensitivity and the need for digestive enzymes), and, worst of all, the inability to have sex. That latter one, diagnosed ten years later as vulvar vestibulitis, kept me from having sex with anyone, ever. Now as a 33-year-old with two surgeries to correct the problem, I actually have a chance at keeping whatever love I find.
This blog will document my search for a suitable companion who will find me an ideal match despite my inability to drive due to motor issues, my need for twelve hours of sleep a night, and with the knowledge that my flareups can come on any time without warning and last just as long as they feel like it. I've almost graduated with my master's degree, my next online teaching assignment is a successful interview away, and I have a wonderful life filled with wonderful friends and family. I'm finally at a place in my life where I can accept someone into it as an almost completely independent adult at the ripe young age of 33. Welcome to my journey.
