Monster in the Mirror

In my early Fibro-days, before I was diagnosed, before I started physical therapy, and when I was being ravaged by Rachel (myFibromyalgia’s name) with unbearable pain most of the time, I had to begin grieving the person I had once been.  I don’t think I knew it at the time, because without a diagnosis, my prognosis was opaque at best.  However, I do think I began the grieving process, particularly when I would see my reflection in the window of my mother’s car.  I probably noticed my reflection in mirrors as well, but the car window reflection struck me more saliently.

The reflection simply didn’t belong to me.  I didn’t recognize the slumped over beastly monster.  My reflection couldn’t hold herself up straight, I would later learn, because her core muscles were wasting away, being eaten by Rachel, that fat fiend   My reflection dressed sloppily, because clothes hurt so very much.  Her hair was a mess, because her arms didn’t work well.  Her face wasn’t mine.  It hadn’t’ changed, I don’t think, but somehow, it wasn’t mine.  Perhaps the pain had found its way to my soul, and perhaps a pained soul reflects in one’s face.  If you believe in souls, that is.

After my diagnosis and after I began physical therapy, I began to improve.  Not long after that, the monster in my reflection was chased away by my real reflection.  I slowly returned.  Clothes still hurt, but not as much, and I was learning how to dress somewhat better without adding pain.  My arms worked again, so my hair could look nice again (my mom helped with my hair and clothes when I couldn’t, but it’s just not the same when someone else does these things for me).  My core muscles were returning, so I could stand straight again.  Most importantly, my face was back.

Whenever I see my reflection in a car window or a more traditional mirror, I am grateful that I see myself, rather than my fibro-monster.  Perhaps the fibro-monster is what Rachel looks like.

Seeing the reflection of the distorted version of myself forced me to come face to face with Rachel, that is, with my Fibromyalgia.  I would have to grieve and let go of the person I had prefibroly (get it? Pre-Fibro + previously) been and accept the person I would have to become.  At my gradually strengthening core, I am still the same person that I have always been, as is reflected in the return of my real reflection, but much of my life and perhaps portions of my personality had to change so that I could more effectively cope with chronic pain.