If you know someone with fibro, chronic fatigue, or mental illness ...

Today's post is going to be a little bit different than some. Maybe it's my new meds talking. Or maybe it's the fibro symptom where your brain and your tongue feel temporarily disconnected, and you find yourself in the place of, "Did I just say that?"

I have fibromyalgia. Basically, it is a syndrome of the nervous system (one theory) and falls under a larger umbrella of central sensitivity syndromes. In my case, my nervous system has been ramped up for so long that it can no longer process most stimuli as a normal person would.

I look fine. In fact, people tell me I look great. I recently lost 14 pounds in an effort to eat healthier and hence, be healthier. Changing my diet has helped some. I can tell when I start to eat too much of refined foods. Mainly, joints start to hurt that didn't previously.

I try to have fun and a positive attitude. I must be a bit stronger than I used to be, because when it first set in, I would sit quietly at a family or social function - not like me. I felt apart from everyone. I didn't understand what I was experiencing, or why. I was a bit negative in my outlook on life - totally subconscious on my part, but there all the same.

Now, I can interact with people and not feel like a deer in headlights. I can laugh and joke. I do not handle cognitive or emotional stress well. But then, who does? Maybe we should just do away with those kinds of stress. The physical is enough.

As I said, there is a mental component to fibromyalgia. I get depressed occasionally. I get anxious quite often. I am using cognitive and physical therapies to work with the anxiety, but sometimes, it just can't be helped. My body takes over, sending me messages to slow down and take care of myself however I have to. So, I understand a bit better now how devastating mental illness can be for a person.

When I have a big flare -- and almost anything can set it off, even the weather, DH calls me a walking barometer -- I feel utterly useless for a period.

Folks, I am writing this because this syndrome is real. It affects people, even though they may try not to show it. I have to be very careful to keep my life at a certain low stress level. If I do that, then I can function enough to take care of myself and my family somewhat. I also work to make it a habit to be cheerful, even when I am feeling crummy. Because I don't want to spread that negative energy, or come across as feeling sorry for myself (well, not for more than 15 minutes at a time). But there are some times I can't hide it, and that's okay. My family is learning to adjust.

I've given up some things. Sitting on your caboose on the sofa watching TV or cruising the internet is not how I would choose to spend my time, but sometimes, I'm grateful I can do that and take my mind off my symptoms.

I miss working and interacting with people. I worked hard to be productive in my field. I miss it, but I can only handle so much interaction per day now. When I'm done, I'm done, and my system tells me.

I miss being able to contribute substantially to my children's college tuition. I miss taking them on trips. I miss being able to drive on a road trip with them without needing major rest when I get there. I miss long hikes and adventures. I miss not being spent by three p.m.., sometimes earlier depending on what's happened earlier in the day or if a storm system is moving in. I miss dancing with abandon.

I miss being able to think. I can't remember what you might have said five minutes ago, and I can forget even trying to remember the details. I have to write everything down on a calendar, in very specific ways. The anxiety of trying to remember things can be overwhelming at times.

Now, in case you think I want sympathy or feel sorry for myself, I do not. I am grateful EVERY SINGLE DAY that I can walk, move, and feel well enough that I am not stuck in bed, as some fibro sufferers are. I am very cognizant that many people suffer in the world with far worse, but I also know I am entitled to live my life how I have to to be healthy. That often means my having boundaries other people don't or can't understand.

So, I guess, in the end, this post is about being aware. If someone you know or love has a syndrome/illness you can't see, it doesn't necessarily define them, but it does affect them. And when you ask about it and they tell you, listen.

Then believe them.

Even though you can't see it, even though they have made the decision to be cheerful, even though they can enjoy non-stressful events just fine for a period, and they realize and KNOW there is much to be grateful for, don't assume that it's all in their head. Because it's not.