It was a year ago this month that I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia.

I'd been having the symptoms since... March? April? I didn't write about them, because I didn't want to acknowledge them. The pain I felt during my Boston birthday party visit. The stiffness when I rested for just a few minutes.

Epilepsy was enough. The tendonitis was enough. I couldn't even think of dealing with anything else.

It was the trip down to Florida that did it. Straining my muscles by pulling suitcases, stiffening in the cramped plane seat - the pain when we were disembarking in Atlanta was so awful that I could no longer hide it from Adam. And he made me see a doctor. Preliminary diagnosis of fibromyalgia, confirmed by blood tests that proved it wasn't lupus.

I've been in pain every day for more than a year now. I have had to change... everything.

I don't really feel like finishing this post right now. Don't worry, not depressed. Just... stoic. And tired. And my arms and shoulders hurt, so typing is not comfy. And... I don't know what to say. Pain has become part of my everyday life. One day I'll be able to express what that does to a person. Today is not that day, I suspect. Brain is just too tired.