fibro mathematics 101 part 1

Deficit:

I've never been good at math. And it feels like I do a lot of fibro math.
 That whole energy envelope concept. Which really is helpful. To gain a sense of control.
It's a helpful tool. But man oh man- it can drive you crazy. Not only having to live that way. But sometimes life just takes too many withdrawls and there isn't a lot you can do about it.

If your baby regularly decides that they want to hang out from 2 am to 6 am. ( like my boy did regularly ) And your two  year old wakes up at 7 am. You can't sit and explain to them, " Now this whole situation is more than Mommy's body can handle. Can you go back to bed for another 4 hours? Otherwise I will be really sore and feel terrible and it will put me in an energy deficit for days."

Before kids energy envelopes were easier to manage. Work, eat, sleep as much as possible, try to exercise, fun.  If you over did it with a romantic woodland hike with your partner, or partyied too much the night before. You simply slept. Simply let things like laundry, cooking, errands slide until you recovered. Or your partner picked up the slack.

When you over do it with kids- which is pretty much a constant state- especially when they are under 5- you still have to keep going. You might be able to go into " couch parenting" mode. But diapers still need changed, feeding times, meals gotten, the constant child chatter, needing, fighting and getting into everything possible.

And this energy deficit, which is common to all parents and  funny parenting sitcoms, will be worse for a fibro parent. The stakes are simply higher.

Regular parents complain about a lack of energy and fatigue- but I'm not sure we are using the same definition. They still seem to be able to take care of their kids, clean the floors, do laundry and have a playdate.

When I talk about fibro parenting fatigue what I mean is: you are so tired you don't brush your teeth, change out of your pjs, or brush your hair until the kids are in bed.
You only get off the couch to do the necessities. Then have to return to laying down. On the floor or couch.Then once they are in bed, you drag your sorry ass into the shower, you can't remember the last time you shaved your armpits, you let the water flow over you and you are pretty sure you ruined your life by having kids. And that you suck as a mother and your children will grow up to hate you. Or they will grow up with no social skills because you have no energy for playdates. Even though there was no such thing as a "playdate" when you grew up. Then leaving toys all over the house, facepaint smeared on the walls and dishes all over the place. You stumble into bed, pray for coma state like sleep, and no interruptions of coma like  sleep, and hope tomorrow will be better. Consoling your self with the fact your children are at least still alive, reasonably clean, and know they are loved.

And tomorrow usually is better. After some good sleep.



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