There are people in this world who are able to get into bed, lie down, take a deep breath, and fall asleep right away.
I kid you not. I know this, because my husband is one of them.
I can lie there practising every relaxation and breathing technique I know, and it doesn’t happen. Sometimes I can lie there for hours before I finally drop off. This is what I have come to consider “normal”.
Even if I don’t fall asleep as quickly or easily as I would like, I have found that essential oils can be very helpful with relaxation and restfulness.
This very handy post by Alisson at The Sustainable Mess blog outlines which ones are generally the most useful.
Queenscliff is a town on the southern end of the Bellarine Peninsula, near where Port Phillip Bay enters Bass Strait.
Queenscliff has a lovely small-town feel to it, even though it’s only a half hour’s drive from Geelong. There is a very real sense of leaving the rat-race behind and stepping into a friendlier, more relaxing existence.
It is a town with lovely old buildings and churches, and a wide main street lined with boutique shops, cafes and restaurants, including two ice-cream parlours, two old-fashioned candy stores and — best of all — two book shops!
On the cliff above the beach is a lighthouse built from local basalt in 1881, and a historic fort that is still in use as the base of the Air Force Cadets.
There are some great spots to sit and watch the boats, including the ferry to Sorrento at the southern end of the Mornington Peninsula, just across the bay.
It really is a delightful spot, and I am already keen to visit again.
For the chronically busy person, there is nothing like a little downtime for reenergising and resetting the mind.
I always feel as though making it to the break at the end of third term is like sliding into third base and only just making it, looking shabby and feeling a little worse for wear.
Life has been crazy busy in recent weeks with work, a non-fiction book release, and theatre commitments.
So, while my sister is able to care for my dad for a few days, I’ve been able to escape to the countryside.
Today’s drive rewarded me with blue sky, fluffy white clouds, sunshine, and some gorgeous scenery.
It really was a glorious day– and just what I needed!
The aim of this post is not to complain. My spirit is still quite positive, albeit a little weary after working hard to tick things off my “do or die” list this week. Instead, my purpose is to raise awareness of what it’s like to live with Fibromyalgia.
People cannot see my illness. It’s easy to feel sympathy for someone in a cast, a wheelchair or a hospital bed. I notice an immediate difference in people’s responses on the days I need to use my walking stick. Some are kinder, and most are more physically careful around me.
Of course, there are always some who couldn’t care less about someone with a cane, but there is no point losing time or sleep getting upset about them. Their attitude only highlights the good in others’.
My disease is invisible, although some of its effects are not. I may look tired, or upset, at times. My emotions sometimes get a bit messy, although I am a good actor so most people don’t know that.
After a busy and somewhat stressful week, my body is letting me know how unimpressed it is. My pain levels are in the “stupid” range. My legs don’t want to bend anymore. I have zero need to take my pulse because everything is throbbing. Even typing this is slow because my fingers hurt too.
To anyone else, I probably just look like someone in a recliner, covered with a quilt on a cold night, typing on her iPad. The truth is, I want to go to bed but I don’t want to move because I ache so badly.
I have medicated, but it’s not touching the pain. That’s always good.
In a further act of bodily insubordination, my very dodgy spine is giving me spasms— yet another an indication that I have probably (read: definitely) overdone it, yet again.
I don’t want sympathy. I don’t want medals or admiration, or people telling me I’m brave.
What I want is for people to understand that Fibromyalgia and other “invisible illnesses” are not imaginary. They are not something we adopt because they are “trendy”.
Fibromyalgia hurts. And it sucks. And it doesn’t go away.
And if you think I “don’t look sick”? Just remember, you can’t see my superhero cape, either.
Whenever I am on the road for pleasure, one of my aims is always to go somewhere I haven’t been before. I have found this to be a good principle for travelling, although it doesn’t always mean going very far out of the way.
Last week I went to Bendigo with friends. I have been there many times before, but I still managed to do something I haven’t done there before: I visited the Sacred Heart Cathedral which is a significant landmark in Bendigo, and one of the largest cathedrals in Victoria.
There are some large and beautiful churches in some of the cities and towns across the state, and many smaller ones, but a cathedral is a special thing indeed.
I have often expressed a desire to visit this beautiful church rather than just admire it as I drove past, so I was very glad to take the opportunity to make that hope a reality.
It really is beautiful. Rather than attempting to describe it, I will let the pictures do the talking. Enjoy.
Please note: I am not Roman Catholic. My visit was an aesthetic one, not a religious one. I understand that some people have been grievously hurt and damaged by the actions of some Catholic priests. I neither condone nor tolerate their actions. This does not mean that all Catholics, or their places of worship, should be shunned.
I could have spent most of Fibromyalgia Awareness Month writing about my experience of this condition. I could spend a year writing what people don’t know or understand about it.
However, I plan for this to be my only post on that topic during this Fibromyalgia Awareness Month, because I don’t like to complain and I don’t want to sound like I am hiding behind my disease or making excuses.
Fibromyalgia is a diagnosed medical condition— now. It wasn’t always. It has a wide variety of symptoms, although they basically all contribute to chronic pain and overwhelming fatigue.
Because of Fibromyalgia, I have pain all the time. Think about that.
Pain. All. The. Time.
It doesn’t ever completely go away. The best I can hope for is that it will ease off a bit, and that I’ll have more good days than awful ones.
When people present to the Emergency Department or paramedics with pain, the standard procedure is to ask them to rank it between 1 and 10, assuming that 10 is the worst pain they have experienced. I wake up most days to a starting level of about 4 or 5 for me. With medication, I can generally keep it down to about a 3.
That’s why I have structured my working week so that I start a bit later in the mornings. It’s not because I don’t want to get out of bed: it’s because when I do, I am stiff and sore and it’s really hard to get moving. As the day wears on, my pain levels start to increase. My legs feel heavy and hard to lift when I walk. My feet begin to ache, and that often turns into a throbbing pain that starts to work its way up my legs. It can take hours for the aching to subside enough to let me sleep, especially if I have been on my feet a lot. A similar thing happens with my hands and arms if I am using them a lot, and especially if it involves holding or carrying anything with a bit of weight in it. It’s not unusual to end each day feeling like I’ve been either beaten up or body slammed by someone or something a lot larger than me.
Anytime I get stressed or anxious, or when my depression is messing with me, my pain levels flare. Overtiredness also increases my pain. Sometimes, I reach that level of tiredness by lunchtime and still have two classes to teach and a 40 minute drive home before I can rest. Add in a work deadline or two and things can get pretty horrid.
All of this is completely separate from my back pain, which is a different thing and a different type of pain altogether, and which I am able to manage fairly effective for the most part.
The problem with pain is that people can’t see it like they can if you have cuts and bruises or a cast. You can hide a lot behind makeup and a smile.
When they call this an invisible illness, they’re not kidding. If I had a dollar for every time someone said to me “But you don’t look sick,” I could quit work and live very nicely on the interest. It’s such a shame I can’t bill people for their insensitivity or ignorance.
I know it’s not a death sentence like some other diseases are. It is, however, a life sentence. As things stand, there’s no cure in sight. All I can do is keep up my painkillers and anti-inflammatories and hope for the best.
None of this makes me, or anyone else with Fibromyalgia, weak.
It takes strength and courage to get through each day, and sometimes that’s on a moment-by-moment basis. It takes resolve to blink away the tears and keep showing up for work or social or family occasions. It takes guts to say, “Actually, I’m not doing so well” when people ask, or to write a post like this one. In a world that prioritises health and beauty, brokenness is often an unpopular confession.
I have Fibromyalgia. I don’t want sympathy or pity. I don’t want people to tell me I am strong or brave. You bet I am!
What I really want is more awareness, better understanding, and more effective pain relief. And a cape. They can’t see my pain or my superpowers, but they’d be sure to know I have something if I were wearing a cape.
Point Danger is on a promontory just south of Portland, Victoria.
Just off the coast is an island that hosts a gannet rookery. It’s not accessible to the public, but you can go down to the coastline and watch them flying just beyond the fence.
The shore itself is fenced off so that the birds remain undisturbed by visitors. There are better places from which to take photos of the birds and the island, but I wasn’t able to access them on this visit because of mobility issues: I’m on crutches!
You can also turn off the road to the rookery to visit Crumpets Beach. This is a beautiful spot that lies almost at the end of a fairly rugged track that you would only attempt in a 4-wheel-drive or on foot.
Once the track has negotiated some tight bends and bumpy stretches, all the while going fairly steeply downhill, it levels out to run along the beach toward the headland.
This magnificent scenery all lies within fifteen minutes’ drive of Portland, on the south-west coast of Victoria, Australia, which is actually one of the oldest cities in the state. It has some lovely old buildings, a very active deep-harbour international sea port, and is very popular with fishermen and holidaymakers.
There are many resorts that dot the coast of Viti Levu. We stayed at the fabulous Warwick Resort at Korolevu, on the Coral Coast, where a family wedding was being held.
The most beautiful wedding backdrop.
The reception venue.
The amenities are beautiful and nothing is ever too much effort for the staff who work there, comprised mostly of Fijians from local villages. This is a valuable source of employment for them, but their willingness to welcome and host their visitors goes way beyond that. As ambassadors for their country and local communities, these people are among the best.
The central building of the resort is the epitome of island luxury. Dark timber contrasts with creamy white walls, accented by comfortable couches and armchairs. The building opens out onto the beach, capturing the refreshing breeze and providing a backdrop that is to die for.
The beach is dotted with shaded lounges, and the coral reef that runs along the coast ensures that this beach is safe for swimming.
Further along the beach, just beyond the boundary of the resort, are “shops” run by friendly villagers who sell sarongs and tee shirts, braid hair, do henna tattoos and paint nails, or give massages to folks staying at the resort.
Everyone talks about that dream vacation on a tropical island, don’t they? My visit to Fiji was my first, and it was absolutely beautiful.
On entering the airport terminal, you’re greeted with a welcoming song – and oh, wow! Can they ever sing! Everywhere you go, you’re greeted with a friendly “Bula!” and a genuine smile.
The islanders of Viti Levu call this mountain ‘The Sleeping Giant’.
The mountains become more prominent in the scenery as you travel inland from the coast.
The scenery is dramatic. Farms and fields of sugar cane and corn give way to mountains dotted with villages.
The people are vibrant and friendly, the colours are bright and vivid, and the hospitality is warmer than anywhere else I’ve been. Their houses and shops are not like those in Australia or the US – these people don’t place a high value on being fancy. Their values revolve around faith, family and community.
Among the colourful buildings and homes, the police stations are all white and blue so that people can identify them easily.
The sand on the beaches is golden and the water is clear and almost magically turquoise.
Many of the beaches feature palm trees that sway in the light breeze, which is almost constant.
Golden sand and turquoise water make a very inviting vision!
As we drove into the mountains, the beaches gave way to forests, rivers, and more closely settled villages.
So, I’ve been limping for a few weeks with a sore heel.
It’s been much worse over the past two weeks, when I couldn’t have seen a doctor about it if I tried, unless I went to the emergency room. In my completely non-medical-professional, sucking-it-up-like-a-big-girl opinion, it wasn’t bad enough for that.
Today I saw a doctor.
Turns out it’s acute tendinitis of the Achilles.
Oops.
I’m now on medication – anti-inflammatory pain killers and prednisolone – in addition to the DoTerra Deep Blue ointment that I’ve been using on it. That stuff is really good, by the way. I’ve also been told to rest it and be gentle when I do have to walk on it.
When I opened the package from the pharmacy, the information provided told me that the medication might cause drowsiness. There was also a sticker on the box that warned me that it could affect mental alertness and/or coordination. With those warnings heeded, I took my medication and went to bed.
At this point, it’s fair to point out that I’ve never been a sound sleeper. Insomnia has been a way of life for me for years. The degree of wakefulness last night, however, was unexpected, even for me.
I looked at the label on the box again this morning. It didn’t tell any lies. It certainly did affect my mental alertness. I was sitting up at 3am writing a story so good, I scared myself.
The saddest part is that I’m not even surprised by any of this. It’s exactly how my luck and my life tend to roll. Prescribed rest, though… that’s not so bad. Hello, books.
An Aussie Maple Leaf, adrift on the wind... 