3 years

It has been 3 years since my diagnosis.
3 years of fighting this devil inside me.
3 years of nothing getting better, only getting worse.

I am frustrated. I am disappointed.
I am tired. I am tired of being tired.
I am scared. I am scared that what the doctors have written down is not enough to prove to the judge that I can't work. Work? Ha! I can barely live some days. Did I go to the doctors enough? Did they write the right things down in their notes? Do they even agree that I can't work?

The constant pain, the fatigue, no, wait, the complete exhaustion that stops be from being me. It has been a month?? since I have even been able to shave my legs. The lightheadedness, the constant anxiety, the depth perception problems that make looking down a hill a bitch, much less walking down it.  The fact that it has taken me 10 minutes to type this out because looking at a screen makes me feel dizzy. Sitting at a desk makes my legs go numb and my back cramp up.
I am supposed to go out to lunch today with my mom and my aunts, but I can barely stay awake after taking a shower and trying to find something to wear that doesn't hurt. Tactile Allodynia. A fancy way of saying my skin feels like its on fire under my clothes. How does a woman that used to wear suits and hose and heels to work and tight jeans and tank tops and boots to party survive when her whole body feels like prickly heat?  Hair and makeup? That went the way of the dinosaur.

Doctors. Hmmm. They try, but they have no clue. That is probably why I don't go very often.
Something has gotta give though. I am getting my depression under some semblance of control with the amtryptaline, but it isn't helping the Fibro symptoms. I am still not sure what the Gabapentin is supposed to be doing. The Vyvanse for my ADD, that helps me be able to focus long enough to write this, and still remember that I have other things to do, but it doesn't help my body to let me do those things. The Zonisamide, it helps the migraines and the tremors most of the time, until I get a flare up, but then again, when I get a flare up, nothing works. So I sleep. Or I push through until my body gives out on me and makes me stop. And I get up in the morning, take my pills, and start all over again, hoping and praying for a better day.