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D. Megan Millington

I walk a fine line too, but I do not have the ability to rest. I can't, for one, because the painful ramifications for that period of resting, not moving for a day, takes several days to recover from. Not working out at a gym on Sundays, much less sitting for 3 hours at church takes until Wednesday/Thursday to finally regain my functionality. I am doing great on Friday and Saturday (I work out 5-6 days per week) and then Sunday sets me back again. Counter intuitive, I know, but it's what I work with around here.

I wonder if I worked less, if viewed parenting more passively, if I reduce my children's activities that maybe I would stop living at a 4 every day and have fewer 8 level days, but I fear that as my disease progresses, I will become less engaged 5 years or 10 years down the line. I have to live now because I don't know what the future looks like. I'm not going to die, just be less mobile and more miserable.

So I look at my life and think I am frenetically moving. But I fear I will not have the abilities I do have in my future and my opportunity to mother my children is running out right now.

I look at my children and know I have x number of years left, x numbers of Christmases, x hours or minutes before I send them off into an adult world. Time. It's rushing by. I don't have time for pain. So I take the pill(s) and hope for medical knowledge to improve.

A faulty brain sending pain signals all the time is hard to manage. I wish I had a story or two to cite as the reason I struggle. I envy your (albeit, not in any way to diminish your experiences at all) stories of surviving accidents and injuries. I have no explanations than my brain is flat out lying. So I take the medication that tells it to shut up, even if it's only for a few hours at a time.

Though I do long for a slower pace too.

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