There is a lot of research linking fibromyalgia to excessive stress, and I believe it is one of many possible factors. My fibro peaked when I became heavily traumatized a few years ago, but it started long before that.

— Please excuse grammar mistakes, this was originally typed on a mobile phone and hastily edited before bed.

Both of my parents were abusive narcissists, they thought they were doing the right thing, what they needed to raise a strong child. Mom was the physical abuser, dad used mental abuse. Both got worse when they drank, occasionally starting verbal fights with each other. Both of them were strict, Roman Catholic, but not very religious, ex-military, and strength was very important to them. I was weak, often sick, and definitely not like the other children. They ridiculed me for that, almost nightly. We lived in a very liberal, open minded and accepting neighborhood, but I had to live heavily closeted, scared, and be someone I was not. My only hopes in life were to make my parents happy. My greatest fear was losing them, so I did everything possible to keep them happy.

I didn’t have allergies until I was eight or nine, they were triggered by renovation work my parents were doing. My parents didn’t have me wear a mask and I ended up inhaling renovation dust. That dust was one hundred year old victorian house plaster and dust, mixed with various animal hairs, mostly horse. Every couple of years a new symptom would show, usually around times of high stress. It wasn’t long after my allergies started to show  that time they had me start helping them with the family businesses. Weekends and summers were mostly spent cleaning apartments, moldy basements, attics, or yard work for the dozen or more properties we owned in our neighborhood. My parents would buy one or two home a year, and I worked on all of them. I never did a good enough job for them, a constant disappointment. Too often I would be sick the next day, suffering from allergy attacks or sinus issues. Some times they would just be too frustrated with how ‘slow’ I was. I would tell myself that would change after I became a successful engineer.

My asthma started when I was a senior in high school. I had an unfortunate incident with a jacuzzi in an unventilated room that left my lungs scarred. At first my parents didn’t believe me, they assumed it was a yearly wheeze that I had. So they sent me off to school. I pushed through the day even attempting gym class while wheezing for breath. After school was over I was driving and my car broke down, just down the hill from home. It was the longest walk I had ever done at that point, stopping every few feat to catch my breath. My parents still didn’t believe something was wrong and left me with two neighbor children to babysit. By the time my parents returned home I was in bed barely able to breath, the children half freaking out. My parents finally believed me when they had to half carry me down three flights of stairs.

Eventually I went off to college and learned what it was to be a teen and have fun. Fun is dangerous to have, it makes you crave more of it. During my college years I noticed I had a nervous stomach, cast iron unless I was anxious or nervous, useless most mornings. I also started having sleep issues. I would tell myself that was all part of being an adult. My final year of college I started having pains in my wrists, I assumed it was due to poor ergonomics, so I changed my posture, it helped. After college I started working a high stress, low pay, IT job. Some fun once or twice a week helped make it all worth while. I loved to throw a party, I enjoyed a concert every month or two, downtown with friends or coworkers on a Friday. While I was enjoying life, my relationship with my parents continued to disintegrate, and so was my health. As I approached my mid twenties pain continued to worsen in my wrists. My stomach issues started after a high stress month at work, the brain fog began within a year or two of that.

In my mid twenties I started trying to get healthy. I wasn’t sleeping, I was having trouble focusing, there was the increasing wrist pain, and brain fog was starting to become problematic. Doctors told me to exercise more, lose some weight. I really started to love the gym, going three to four times per week with coworkers. I loved that 20-30 minutes of cardio with the headphones in. I would zone out, it was meditation. Another 15-20 minutes of weights, then cool down. I would bike upwards of ten miles, inline skate all day long. I was designing and building new gardens, and learning autobody work. It was great up until the carpal tunnel pain became severe. This time nothing I did helped it improve.

This was my first full fibro attack, although I didn’t know it at the time. I was trying to keep my parents in my life along with being highly active with dozens of hobbies and interests, it was too much stress. At this point I was very successful. My job was a good career, I owned a beautiful house with gardens I loved, one nice car, two vintage cars, and a project in the garage. I had great friends and a recently completed Masters of Science. I was trying to communicate with my parents, yet they refused to listen. I honestly believe they went crazy around this time. They accused me of stealing money from them, lying about my carpal tunnel. This wasn’t what my parents wanted my life to be, they didn’t approve of my life, and within a year they disowned me.

Even disowned and depressed, I was still doing well that year. I was living my life and overall happy. The fibro pain was fading and by mid year I was almost myself again. I had a month a feeling fine (minor aches, nothing disrupting), when my mom sends me my childhood possessions, in pieces. Seeing the broken photo frames, damaged trophies, my childhood smashed, triggered the worst fibro attack. Bodywide pain, fatigue that had me stuck to the ground, and anxiety unlike any I ever experienced.

Within a year I had left my career of nine years, it had turned hostile when I asked for help during my recovery. It was only one person, but no amount they offered me would make me stay, it was time to move on. Packed most of my belongings into storage, then moved to tiny South Florida garden apartment, starting a new leg of my career. The anxiety I felt during the move, while trying to settle, and when attempting to maintain a life nearly crippled me. Three things kept me going, my new job, my boyfriend, and the plan to get better.

My new job is a dream engineering job for an internet company similar to Google. They expect me to get my job done, not be there certain hours. This allows me to work around the fibro and anxiety. I have a great manager who respects my efforts and a company that compensates me fairly. I’m a dedicated worker, and if it wasn’t for the fibro, I would be a much harder worker.

At this point it has been three years since I didn’t have daily pain. Fatigue was a daily problem until early this summer when I finally beat it. I only suffer fatigue if I push myself too hard or on bad fibro days. Anxiety has been nearly constant since I moved, South Florida is a cramped, high stress region, but slowly gaining control. I’m fighting to get better, to get stronger, and eventually move somewhere where I will have myself a home again and be at peace.