Fibromyalgia: You Don’t Own Me

Despite the pain I live with every day, I often do forget that I’m not twenty anymore–until I hand down to my girl some vintage band tees too small for me now. Goodbye Fleetwood Mac tank top, and Rolling Stones long sleeved t-shirt. See you around, Abbey Road with the small hole in the armpit. Rick Springfield, you’re next, dude. And poor Peter Frampton, my beloved…I promise you’ll live on in the hands of Nicole. She’ll treat you right. I just can’t stretch you across my boobs anymore. Okay, so my boobs aren’t the real problem. I’ll be thirty-nine in December, and I’m a good deal heavier everywhere than I was twenty years ago.

Thank you, Fibromyalgia—you really do cramp my style, and by that I mean you’ve made me fat. My bell bottom jeans just don’t fit right anymore, and I wonder who I am when I go out in yoga pants and sweatshirts. You’ve taken my identity and my will to give a fuck. I throw my hair up in Pebbles buns now, and wear my glasses every day. I wear slip on shoes, for fuck’s sake. Granted, my shoes are colorful and cute as fuck, and I rock a messy bun, especially when I’m wearing glasses. I refuse to allow you to take away my good humor. You take away my concentration; sleep; self-esteem; sanity; appetite; motivation; and MY T-SHIRTS, among loads of other things…you can’t have my goddamned humor, too.

I thank the Universe for Nicole. My girl reminds me who I am better than anyone. I had a lovely day with her yesterday, full of laughs and stimulating conversation. So there’s another thing Fibromyalgia and my other health issues cannot take away from me—my daughter, and our beautiful relationship.

I know I’ve posted this song a million times before, but I’m posting it again. This is the song that I would play when Nicole was a baby—when she’d wake up crying in the night. I’d hold against my chest, and dance her back to sleep. My special babe. I’d be nothing good without her.

Published by Kindra M. Austin

Author of fiction, poetry, and very sweary social commentary. Editor, and co-founder of Indie Blu(e) Publishing. Co-founder of Blood Into Ink, and Heretics, Lovers, and Madmen.

39 thoughts on “Fibromyalgia: You Don’t Own Me

          1. I still think about that blog you wrote YEARS ago about your work at the time…and although I can’t recall the story, there wa something about Special K? Do you remember if it was you or was it someone else that that referred to? I’ve been wracking my brains for so long over this.

            Liked by 1 person

  1. Your resilience & good humor beam through this, and the details about the T shirts is somehow very comforting (at least you didn’t turn them into dust rags!). I hope your pain eases with the natural ebbs and flows of Life & stress 🙏🏼

    Liked by 1 person

    1. You are so kind, thank you. I think Nicole would flip her lid if she were to ever see my shirts as rags, lol! Sending you love and good vibes ❤✌

      Liked by 1 person

  2. This is humble and raw, and leaves the reader basking in the glow of your strength. You choose to face chronic illness with an attitude that most can’t muster on a good day. You are strong, beautiful, talented and resilient, even fibromyalgia can’t dim that shine.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I so adore you and you know how I’ve always loved when you write real…and this is no exception. It’s fabulous! I think of you all the time. I knew you before the damned fibrobitch. I wish I could take it away, but to me – and to so many others – you are still the feisty, funny woman I fell in love with all those years ago.

    I hate wearing my glasses, but they’re a necessity now. Messy buns are the best. I have to put my hair up to work and I reckon I’d look like an old crone if I couldn’t messy-bun it too. Great combo. Love you – love your work. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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