Rest in Peace Kyle

I found out this evening that Kyle, who was a young, enthusiastic probation officer in Glenwood Springs in 1990's, died in January. He was 39, with two young children. Kyle was recognized as Probation officer of the year in 2004; he loved his work and really made a difference in people's lives- his defendants, coworkers, friends and family. The sadness I feel right now is huge, I can't imagine how hard it is for his parents. I keep thinking about watching him grow and develop as a PO, and I admired his dedication and zeal. Probation is a tough job, you often see the same people come through the system over and over, and wonder if they'll ever get their life together. We become jaded, hardened and cynical- it's a survival skill really. But Kyle worked hard to help defendant's overcome the problems they were having, and believed in a person's ability to change their life. I haven't seen him in years, but he was the type of person that leaves a mark, and he will be missed. May God bless you, and all of your family Kyle.

Existential fibromyalgia

Here's my quandary- how do I find acceptance for my physical health without giving in to the pain? I think one of the reasons my fibromyalgia became disabling was that I just pushed through the pain for years, ignoring the cumulative affects it was having on me. I had things to do, by darn! For the most part it was a careful balancing act to continue working, caring for a family and still having a life.

All that came crashing down in 2004, when my body said 'Enough'! and just shut down, for the most part. Everything I had ignored for years demanded attention, and I realized the stress of being a probation officer and having my Mother-in-law live with us was too much. She was becoming more frail, and I was constantly concerned that she would fall while David and I were gone. The idea of her laying there for hours before one of us came home was very, very stressful. She was falling quite often, which created the concern. To her credit, she had the most graceful and gentle falls I'd ever seen. When she realized she had lost her balance, she would grab something solid and carefully crumple to the ground, so no broken bones. Nevertheless, the situation would not improve, only continue to deteriorate, hence the worry and concern for her safety.

Several therapist friends and the therapist I saw for a while have all said that it's important for me to honor my body and come to accept that fibro is part of my life. That sounds like a good idea, but in my mind it sounds more like giving in to the illness, and I'm not willing to do that. So every day I get out of bed, somedays much slower and later than others. I force myself to do something useful every day, even if it's just to clean out the dishwasher. One of the joys I have is doing genealogy research, it serves two purposes. One is the satisfaction of finding my family and bringing back their lives through compiling their history and preserving it for generations to come. The second is that I can do research at home, in my recliner, by computer. So even if I can't move, if my head is clear enough to think, then I can provide some service for my famly.

I do not have an answer to my question; finding acceptance of my physical limitations without giving in to the pain. I know that for me, it's best not to dwell on the pain very much or very often. Focusing on it, or even paying attention to it, brings an awareness of every joint, every vertebra in stark, acute pain. What's the point in that? So, somehow I need to be accepting, acknowledge the pain in me without giving in to it. Huh, that takes some more work...