The "Doctor" Is In

Trey Smith

Most of the posts I pen concern philosophy and politics, but from time to time, I share with you my ongoing challenges from the variety of conditions I have been blessed with. I have written quite a bit about my trials and tribulations with Klinefelter's Syndrome, Asperger's Syndrome, Fibromyalgia and Schizotypal Personality Disorder. There are two reasons for this, other than the fact I am basically an open person.

For starters, being autistic, I have hard time figuring out proper social boundaries. While the average bloke may have a good sense of knowing what is too much personal information, I tend to be clueless! So, rather than trying to unravel a knot that generally is lost on me anyway, I tend to lay it all out there. I suppose it's a good thing that I am disabled and don't work because, in this day and age where potential employers farm the internet for information about job applicants, I probably have shared enough personal information to scare any of them away! :D

There is another reason why I am so open. Many of the conditions I have are ones that people generally don't talk about, except in hushed tones. If an individual suspects or has learned that they have one or more of these maladies, it often engenders a lonely feeling. It leads to questions like, why me? How will I ever cope? How can I lead a "normal" life?

Because of my writings on these topics, it is not uncommon for me to receive emails from individuals who suspect or have recently been diagnosed with Klinefelter's Syndrome, Asperger's Syndrome, Fibromyalgia or Schizotypal Personality Disorder. While I most certainly am NOT a doctor, I can reach out to say it is not the end of the world. All of these conditions and syndromes are merely labels. They don't change the person you are; they merely define many of the challenges you face.

Since I have made it to 55 and I'm still going, it is a testament to the fact that a person's life doesn't end when you learn of your label[s]. This is not to say that my life has been a piece of cake -- it definitely has not -- but I somehow have been able to continue to muddle through. If I can do it, I see no reason why you can't either.

Life Is About Trade-Offs

Trey Smith

Over the weekend, while at the grocery store, one of the clerks mentioned that I looked terrible. She said it looked as if I was in immense pain. I replied that I looked like I was in severe pain because I was! Yes, I'm in the throes of another Fibromyalgia flare-up.

When I get like this, one common question I am asked over and over again is: If you're in so much pain, why do you refuse to take pain medication? And the answer is that, in my eyes, the trade-off is too steep. While I don't like pain, I'd rather deal with it than deal with impaired intellectual functioning!

When my pain is this severe, it doesn't respond to over-the-counter medications. The only thing that will knock it down significantly are those sorts of drugs that must be prescribed by a licensed medical professional. I have taken drugs like Vicodin and Tylenol with Codeine before -- after surgery or when I had a gall stone attack. While these types of drugs certainly dulled or eliminated the agonizing pain, they made me extremely loopy to the point that I had trouble adding 1 + 1.

When acute pain gets to the point that I simply can't take it anymore, I tend to be willing to accept the trade-off. However, since I've lived my entire life with chronic pain, I tend NOT to be willing to accept the trade-off in those instances. I realize that the pain will abate of its own accord at some point, so I try to deal with it as best I can.

I may groan and grunt a lot, but I can still read and comprehend what I'm reading. I can still write somewhat cogent blog posts. I can still do mental computations in my head. I can still carry on complex discussions and debates.

To have the capability to do these things well is very important to me. And so, the trade-off I accept is that I'm going to hurt like hell...and not be overjoyed with this prospect. ;-)

Contrition

Trey Smith

My issues with a dysfunctional body began when I was in junior high. Initially, it was nothing specific; I simply began to feel vaguely rundown and out of sorts. No one in my family, including me, took it seriously.

By high school, I suffered through bouts of pain in my bones and muscles. I tended to associate it with overdoing things because I was a very active person. I played a lot of intramural and neighborhood sports. I walked and hiked a lot. I was also an avid cycling enthusiast. It was not uncommon at all for me to hop on my 10-speed for a 10 or 20 mile jaunt. (I loved my bike so much that I didn't get around to taking the driving test until I was 19 -- 3 years later than most of my peers.)

It wasn't until my college years that I began to understand that something was physically wrong with me. The periodic bouts of fatigue and structural pain were becoming more frequent. It got to the point in which, if I went hiking or engaged in some other strenuous physical activity, I KNEW I would be laid up for the next few days. This new-found realization certainly didn't stop me from being active, but it did temper the amount of physical activity I would commit to.

Because I had an invisible condition, my dear mother wasn't very sympathetic. She considered her eldest son to be a melodramatic hypochondriac! Even when I was diagnosed with degenerative arthritis in my late teens, she pooh-poohed the diagnosis. "It's all in your head," she told me incessantly.

No, it wasn't in my head. It is in my bones and my connective tissue. She had long been dead when doctors finally figured out I had been suffering these many decades with Fibromyalgia as well as degenerative arthritis and two or three congenital defects.

When my mother was on her death bed, she experienced a miraculous change of heart. She was dying of multiple myeloma and had recently broken her left hip. Because of her condition, the hip was removed and not replaced. She got around through the use of a walker.

This happenstance was very painful for her. At one point, her doctor mentioned that her pain was, probably, very much like the pain I suffered from daily due to my congenital hip. When she put two and two together, she realized that she had been very unkind towards my situation for all those years.

In one of her last sentient moments, she motioned for me to come close to her hospital bed. As I sat on the bed, she said in a barely audible whisper, "I'm sorry I was less than supportive. If your daily pain is anything like mine is now, I'm amazed that you have been able to accomplish as much as you have. I'm proud to call you my son."

In all candor, as I've looked back over the years to this brief conversation, I have mixed feelings. On the one hand, it felt good for my mother finally to acknowledge that there was some substance to my physical struggles in life. It made me feel good to know that my mom was proud of me.

On the other hand, it irritates me to no end that the ONLY way she could bring herself to acknowledge my pain was to suffer from something similar. Had she not had the issue with her own hip, I'm confident she would have gone to her death thinking I was little more than a drama queen. Sadly, my mother seemed to be one of those people who was wholly disinterested in trying to walk in another person's shoes.

It Is Hard Being Fragile

Upon awakening yesterday morning, I discovered that getting out of bed was not going to be an easy thing! When I had gone to sleep the night before, I had to deal with my routine pains, but nothing of major significance. During the night it seems my body had decided to attack itself in the area near my diseased left hip. Since my "bed" is on the floor, trying to get to on my feet was a huge undertaking.

Once up, I hobbled downstairs to find my cane. I have been relying on it ever since.

Let me tell you, it is hard being fragile. I'm a big guy -- 6'2" and around 185 pounds. Most fellows my age (53) can still haul the lumber. Mowing the yard, painting the house or working on the car are chores that they don't even think about. I have to be conscious of almost anything I do because one misstep or one overreach can put me down for days or weeks at a time.

Sometimes, due to my Fibromyalgia, I don't have to do much of anything and I'm still put out of commission for several days or more. Heck, standing too long in the kitchen washing dishes can take a toll!

Mind you, I'm not complaining. This has become my lot in life and I simply have to deal with it. Besides, complaining doesn't do any good. I could whine all I want and it doesn't change the fact that I experience massive pain or limited mobility.

I try to do what I can physically muster each day and, when my body revolts, I have to shutdown.

Wishing it was not so doesn't make it not so.

It is what it is.

So Weird

Last night I could hardly flex my right wrist up or from side-to-side without excruciating pain. Even jostling it ever so slightly sent shooting pains up into my shoulder. The little pecking I did on this blog had to be done with my left hand.

And yet, when I woke up this morning, the pain has abated by about 75%! My wrist remains sore, but the swelling and heat are completely gone. My range of motion has returned as well.

This aptly describes the weird life of someone with Fibromyalgia! Pain can be so intense one day and then be gone the next. A body part that is stiff and hot to the touch in the morning may not be so 12 hours later. And you never know when and where it will strike next.

As I sit here before my computer -- typing relatively pain-free with my right hand, no less -- I'm trying to figure out if this flare-up has run its course or if the pain site has moved. My left shoulder doesn't feel so good, but at this point, I'm unsure if it's just routine soreness or the next focal point.

Regardless, I am simply happy my right wrist is functional again!

Ouch!

Anyone who has a chronic connective tissue disorder like Fibromyalgia (or other similar disorders) certainly will understand this post experientially. If you're lucky not to be beset with a condition that features flares or episodes, then hopefully this post will be informative.

I seem to be in the grips of one of my frequent flares. This time around my body is attacking its own tendons. In the course of the past 7 - 10 days, the pain and inflammation has targeted my lefty knee, then my left elbow and now my right wrist just below the pinkie finger. This latest afflicted body part makes typing a bit difficult and far more painful than usual.

As is not atypical, it snuck up on me rather innocently. I woke up one day with the slightest soreness in my left knee. Over the course of 24 hours, it went from a slight annoyance to massive pain. It got to the point that I was icing it almost every hour and had to use my cane to get around.

Was this a new flare or had I injured myself somehow? It is a question I ask myself frequently. Flare-ups don't announce themselves with any fanfare. There is no neon sign in the background flashing the words, "Flare-up in progress." Many of my episodes begin so gradually that I don't realize I am having a flare-up until it blows up.

In addition, each flare-up is different. The symptoms I experience are all over the map. The pain and inflammation can strike ligaments, muscles or tendons. Sometimes it is accompanied by overarching fatigue -- I can sleep for 10 - 16 hours in a day. At other times, I suffer terrible insomnia and can go for days with little more than 2 or 3 hours of sleep every 24 hours. I have experienced extreme light sensitivity which can get so bad that I wear sunglasses indoors at night. And the list of weird sensations and maladies goes on and on.

So, when my knee began to feel like it was broken, my initial reaction was that I must have injured myself. It only dawned on me that there was no injury -- instead this was my next flare -- when, 2 days after hobbling around with a cane, I awoke one morning and the pain in my knee had dissipated greatly and had now migrated to my left elbow.

It remained in my elbow for only about 18 hours before shifting to my right wrist -- where it has stayed for the better part of two and one-half days. Who knows how long it will remain there and where it will move to next! I have no way of knowing if this flare will be of a relatively short duration OR if this will be one of those that hangs on for weeks...or months. Ugh.

While I refuse to allow Fibromyalgia and the accompanying pain to define my life, there is no question that it provides a framework that I must operate within. Some days the framework is more forgiving; at other times, the framework is very, very confining.

Up and Down

I am down in the dumps again. Several elements have converged simultaneously to drop my mood like a rock. Typical of depression, I am sleeping a lot and finding it difficult to motivate myself to do much of anything productive.

The first element that tends to torpedo my spirit is a fibromyalgia flare-up. I seem to be dealing with a doozy. It feels like every inch of real estate on my person is inflamed. To make matters worse, I am severely constipated and I have overarching fatigue. It is difficult to feel bright and chipper when you feel like molten crap.

The second element has to do with the current seasonal transition. Unlike most of the rest of the country, the southwest Washington coast is just now transitioning into spring. I never seem to do well as we move from one season to the next. Personally, I think it has a lot to do with the changes in barometric pressure.

The third element is that my one local friend -- Paul Kim who owns the local mini-mart/gas station -- had to fly back to Korea to see his dying mother. As I have written about numerous times before, I am very anti-social and don't have many friends. Paul has been my one quasi-consistent social outlet and he's been gone for the better part of 2 weeks. I miss him.

The three elements listed above usually would put me in a mild-to-moderate funk, but it is the fourth element that has pushed me over the edge. It is the Bin Laden execution. (I'm sure this surprises no one as I have written a lot posts on this topic.)

I am simply dumbfounded that so many Americans view this alleged event with such glee. While the guy may have been as despicable as advertised (or he may not have been -- we probably will never know), gunning down people we don't like, for whatever reason, flies in the face of the American ideal of innocent until PROVEN guilty.

How can we pontificate to the rest of the world that the American Way of justice and fairness is the best system on earth if we only adhere to these principles when it is convenient or serves some propaganda purpose? How can we pretend that we are morally superior when we execute unarmed suspects?

I'm sure I will snap out of these doldrums once the raging pain lessens, but it will take longer for my heart to mend. Anytime a person, group or nation employs violence supposedly to quell violence, I feel a great disturbance in "the force."

Violence, for whatever reason, only encourages more of the same.

Ice Ice Baby

It's hard to turn on the TV these days without seeing some infernal advertisement for the next new wonder drug!

Can't get your wiener up? Take this little pill (and call your doctor if your wanger won't go back down)!

Hair falling out? Smear on this prescription cream!

Writhing in agony? Boy, have we got the perfect solution for you!!

On and on they go.

If you are person like me -- one who suffers from chronic joint and muscle pain -- I have found a much simpler and safer means of alleviating a good deal of the pain: ice. Frozen water has few side effects, if used in a reasonable manner. It's really inexpensive too.

An icepack placed on an aching shoulder or sore ankle can begin to reduce the pain in as little as 5 minutes. If left on for a good 20 - 40 minutes, it can really numb out the troublesome area and the intensity of pain may not resurface for several hours.

While ice is a rather constant companion these days, I will admit that it has one major drawback: it's damn cold! Not so bad a thing on a sultry summer day, but not always as welcome in the dead of winter.

Mind you, this is NOT the kind of music I listen to, but in reference to the title of this post, I couldn't resist.

Sleepy Time

One of the aspects of fibromyalgia that is hard for non-sufferers to understand is the level of fatigue involved. While, for some, it is a constant hallmark of the disease, for others it comes and goes in periodic flare-ups. I fall in between this spectrum. While my overall energy level has been knocked down several notches by this condition, the floor often drops out from under me during flares.

I've been dealing with a flare-up for the better part of the past month. Aside from sharp, piercing pain that erupts in various parts in my body on any given day, I have been struggling mightily with the fatigue factor. There have been some days when the malaise hasn't been too bad, but there are just as many other days in which doing normal things -- like puttering around the house in my jammies -- is a major undertaking.

Yesterday, for example, I seemed to spend as much time down as up. I slept for nine uninterrupted hours the night before -- a major feat for someone who generally has trouble sleeping. I rolled out of bed at noon. I was up for two and one-half hours, then was back down for a two hour nap. I managed to remain upright for the next 5 hours before heading off to bed at the unheard hour (at least, for me) of 9:30 p.m!

It is difficult to get very much done -- writing on this blog or otherwise -- when your head feels like it's stuck in a fog. No amount of sleep nor rest blows the haze away. During these periods, I often awaken just as tired as when I laid down!! So, I sleep some more and wake up just as fatigued.

In time, this flare-up will subside and I will return to my not-so-fatigued norm. I'm not sharing this info so a bunch of you can leave comments telling me how sorry you are that I must deal with this chronic condition. It is what it is. I may not like it, but I have accepted that it is something I must deal with as best I can -- just like each of you must deal with the life you lead.

Getting all upset about those aspects of life that we cannot change is a waste of energy and a certain mechanism to make us feel more down than we may already feel.

Unlikely Insight

Whenever a person becomes afflicted by a disease or must deal with a congenital issue, the tendency is to feel sorry for ourselves. Such conditions typically are viewed in a negative light. We bemoan the fact that we're disabled, limited or unable to enjoy the "good life" that other people possess.

One of the reasons for this perspective is that pain and/or limited mobility is a real bummer. Few people that I have met in my 52+ years look forward to painful circumstances or situations. We each want to feel good and to savor all the beauty, joy and pleasure this life has to offer. Various forms of debilitation interfere with this kind of universal desire.

As someone who has lived with chronic pain almost my entire life, I frankly will admit that there are times I wish I had not been dealt this hand. There are times I look at others with envy as they play and frolic. Fortunately, such times are few and far between. Generally, I'm not one to play the "Why me?" game. More often than not, I simply accept my life for what it is.

Growing older has sharpened my perspective to some extent. I now realize that, in a manner of speaking, my infirmities have been a blessing in disguise. Because of my autism, I've had the opportunity to delve deeper into my mind and imagination than most people. Since I don't engage in the kinds of social interaction that most people do, I have been afforded more time to explore the foundational questions of humankind. Were it not for my social isolation, this blog may never have come into being.

My fibromyalgia has been a blessing too, though my pain level has been extra high the past few days which explains my fall off in posting. One of the points the ancient Taoist sages write about is that of cycles. As it turns out, fibromyalgia is a cyclical condition: periods of immense pain followed by brief respites of remission. Consequently, through this ailment, I've come to have a more intimate understanding of the cyclical nature of life.

My point here is that, whatever circumstances life offers us, it provides the opportunity to gain insight. Often times, it's the things we dread that allow us to grow far more than the things we crave. When we are forced to deal with adversity head on, we learn what we are made of. It's when we can look pain and suffering in the eye and not blink that we know we are the most alive.

Best Wishes

At one time or another, every person I've ever known has had a wish or a dream. Some are big and grandiose, others are small and of a limited scope. As I sit here pecking away at the keyboard in the wee hours of the morning, I can tell you of my chief wish.

It doesn't involve fortune, though winning a modest sum in a lottery or drawing wouldn't be bad at all. It doesn't involve fame -- I've never desired to be famous. That's not the wish of an anti-social person who values anonymity. In fact, it doesn't involve most of the kinds of things that the vast majority of folks crave or dream about.

My supreme wish is to experience just one day without pain. That's why I'm awake and typing right now. My pain level is too high to accommodate sleep!

I'm not asking for a lifetime free of pain. That would be wholly unrealistic. I'm not desiring an entire year, a month or even a complete week. All I would like is one day.

I would just like to know the feeling of what I'm missing out on. I've spent my life suffering from degenerative arthritis and fibromyalgia. I've spent my life dealing with bodily parts swelling, bones crackling and connective tissue writhing. Pain is my constant companion.

But don't feel sorry for me. When you lead a life filled with chronic pain, you get used to it. Though it never goes away or abates, this doesn't mean a person is never happy. I laugh a lot. I clown around a lot. I'm a bit of a wit and it brings me great joy to crack up others.

There are days, however, when the typical pain goes up by several notches and it becomes that much harder to deal with. For those of us with conditions like fibro, these episodes are called flares. I'm in the middle of a real nasty flare right now.

So, again, my number one wish is for one day pain free. If you'd like to share it, what is your number one wish?

Only the Phantom Knows

I know that a few of my readers -- like me -- are afflicted with an invisible disease. Such conditions affect how we feel and how well we function, yet to the average eye, we look just like any average Joe or Jane.

I liken my fibromyalgia to living in a haunted house with a phantom. You never know when the phantom will appear, where and for how long it will stay. Even worse, no one else in the house can see or hear it!!

Let me offer a typical example. Yesterday afternoon I was sitting in front of my computer reading some of my favorite blogs. I had a mug of green tea that I had been sipping. I went to pick it up to take another sip and I almost dropped the mug because of piercing pain in my left wrist. The pain began to grow in intensity and, within the next hour, it had traveled up my arm to include my elbow.

By the time I crawled into bed several hours later, it had enveloped my entire left arm from shoulder to wrist PLUS the pain now extended into the left side of my neck. It even included the left side of my face which felt numb and twitchy.

If this had happened ten or fifteen years ago, I might have thought I was having a stroke. However, since symptoms like these are common occurrences, I simply chocked it up to the phantom.

When I awoke this morning (Wednesday) the pain still enveloped the entirety of my left arm, but the symptoms in my neck and face had abated. It remained this way UNTIL I took a nap around 1:30 p.m. Upon arising, I realized the pain in my left arm had vanished...and was now lodged in the entirety of my left leg. I've spent the rest of the day limping around noticeably.

Who knows if and where it will be tomorrow? If it does decide to take its leave for now, I know it will return soon enough. I simply never know when, where and for how long.

Only the phantom knows.

The Eye Has It

Anyone who has fibromyalgia knows that flare-ups become a part of routine life. You may not like it, but there's not a whole helluva lot you can do about it! I'm in the middle of a fairly bad flare-up right now and it has limited my writing/responding to comments on my blog and reading my favorite blogs too.

For the second time in the past year, I'm dealing with a nasty case of blepharitis. This condition concerns the inflammation of my lower left eyelid (it was the eyelid below the other eye last time). I almost look like I have a black eye, though the most prominent color is not black but red. It hurts. It itches. Even worse, it's affecting my vision as the swelling itself has increased to the point that it's impeding my sight line.

In addition to the eyelid issue, I'm also dealing with severe fatigue. Though I've been spending more time asleep than awake lately, I'm having serious problems focusing on anything for any length of time and I'm continually exhausted.

These flare-ups used to really get me down. It's difficult to maintain a positive outlook when everything hurts and you can barely muster the energy to do much of anything. However, owing to my studies in Taoism, I don't tend to allow these periods to depress me as before. I realize that life is about cycles and my cycle includes flare-ups and remissions. So, when I'm feeling really bum as I do now, I simply accept it for what it is and await for the pendulum to swing the other way.

That said, I'm more than ready for my swollen eyelid to recede!

A Routine Pain

There I was...sound asleep. All of a sudden, I jerked awake. It felt like the inside of my left thigh was on fire in an electrical sort of way. I switched on the lamp next to my sleeping mat. I pulled down my sweats to see if I'd been bitten by something or if there was something visual for me to see. Of course, there wasn't. Everything looked normal.

So, I tried to get comfortable and fall back to sleep. Before I nodded off, it happened again and happened several more times over the next hour. I finally did fall asleep.

When I awoke this morning, my entire inner left thigh from my groin to just above my knee really hurts. It hurts to the touch and it hurts to move. Again, I took a look at the area and there is nothing noticeable.

Am I alarmed? Not at all. This is par for the course. I guess the best I can say is that it's annoying, but it's normal for my life with fibromyalgia.

My body doesn't seem to like itself because it constantly attacks itself. For me, it's rarely a question of when, but where. Where will it strike next and how long will it last?

I believe I've suffered from fibro most of my adult life. In my 30s to earlier 40s, the pattern was different. I had severe flare-ups that would last from a few days to a few months, followed by months of remission. The attacks covered multiple areas of my body and were often excruciating and/or debilitating. They seemed to come out of the blue and then disappear just as suddenly.

Over the past decade, the pattern has shifted. I now to seem to be in one extended flare-up that spikes from time to time. I can't think of a day over the past several years when I have felt physically okay. Some portion of my body is always under attack and, from time to time, several areas are under attack simultaneously.

To give you an idea of what I'm referring to, here's a brief list:

• Inflamed sternum (happens frequently)
• Noticeable tremors in my hands or feet
• Light sensitivity
• Stiff neck
• One side of face swells up with or without an accompanying rash
  
• Horrendous rashes that can envelope limbs and/or scalp
• Searing pain
  
• Swelling with no known injury
• Butt spasms (makes it hard to sit, stand or lie down)

The list could be ten times longer, but you get the idea. Fibro used to get me down, mainly because I never knew when or where it would strike. It doesn't depress me too much these days because I guess I'm used to it -- As an aspie, I like patterns, even bad patterns and this is definitely a pattern.

The only parts of having fibro that I still struggle with are a) that far too many people think it's solely a "woman's disease" and b) for the most part, it's not a disability that others can see. I may be writhing in pain or entirely foggy in the head, but I just look like an average fellow to most people. So, a lot of people act as if it's all in my head or I'm exaggerating.

I'd willingly trade places with them for one week. I bet they'd soon sing a far different tune.

Against One's Own Nature

One theme that we meet again and again throughout the 81 verses in the Tao Te Ching is this idea that turning against one's own nature creates problems. Both Nina Correa and Diane Dreher have underlined the point that, by not allowing ourselves to be who we really are, we generate stress and tension that results in anxiety, pain and disease.

As I have been working my way through the series on the TTC, I have taken these thoughts to heart and, recently, I have come to understand how this principle has influenced my life. For more than one decade, I tried to be something I am not and I'm suffering the consequences now.

As I have detailed in this space many times before, I'm a very introspective and introverted person. Since my formative years, I've been out-of-step with most of the world. I loathe crowds (particularly social gatherings) and spend the majority of my time alone -- usually deep in thought.

For the first 30 years of my life, I tended to keep to myself. This is not to say that I didn't have any friends -- I had several -- but my life was very compartmentalized. I spent time with a small group of pals (both individually and collectively), but always needed a lot of alone time to recharge.

To provide an example, as a young person, one of my favorite activities was hiking. I hiked all over the area in and around Hot Springs, AR. Most of these excursions were solitary ones. From time to time, a family member, friend or one particular girlfriend (my "now" wife, Della) would accompany me, but I didn't really enjoy the company!!

I felt most energized and spiritual when it was simply me and nature. When other people were there, I felt crowded. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I have a very large "personal space" and hiking with another person always made me feel as if that space was being invaded.

In addition, when someone is with you, a modicum of conversation is expected. When I hiked alone, it was sort of like energetic meditation. Consequently, the expectation of conversation interrupted my contemplative state.

In the summer of 1990, I entered Grad School at age 33. My chosen degree was a MS in Social Science with a political philosophy emphasis. Up until that juncture, I had been rather apolitical. About the only political thing I did each year was vote. Other than that, I generally ignored politics.

I had always considered myself a liberal, but, after reading a lot of the works of Karl Marx, I realized I was a quasi-Marxist! (I say quasi simply because, unlike a lot of dogmatic Marxists, I didn't view the man as a god-like figure. While I think his analysis of the modern world is spot on in many areas, I also grant he got several things wrong.)

As I studied the political process, it began to dawn on me that almost everything in our lives is, at least, small p political. Politics permeates families, social groups, companies, churches, and, of course, government. If I wanted to help affect positive social changes, I needed to get more involved in the political process.

Of course, this created a serious dilemma for me. To become more involved in the process meant I would need to become extroverted because the only way one can be influential WITH groups is if one is an active participant IN groups. With much soul searching and trepidation, I slowly eased myself into the kiddie pool. In time, I found myself in a crowded swimming pool at the adult end!

Not only did I become involved in many progressive organizations, but I served as a leader in many of them. I organized conferences, led marches and demonstrations, conducted workshops, and testified before state and local government bodies. On three occasions, I ran for public office: governor, congress and the local transit board.

However, almost all of these public activities made me very uncomfortable and, as I've detailed here before, I still kept the masses at arm's length. I was always looking for a way to escape -- even if only for a few minutes or an hour or so -- to get by myself to allow me that precious alone time. My favorite escape strategy was to disappear at lunchtime -- when everyone else was networking and socializing. It became a common joke amongst my colleagues as almost everyone got to play the "Where did Trey go?" game.

All this public involvement went against my nature. While I have suffered with Asperger's, Klinefelter's and arthritis all my life, my physical and neurological problems began to intensify during this period. I began to encounter serious bouts of fatigue, tremors, vertigo and intense pain. As the 1990s turned into the 21st century, my health was going downhill rapidly.

It was during this time that I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia and my Asperger's tendencies were becoming more and more prevalent. It got to the point in which I realized I simply couldn't keep going this way. I was driving myself mad. And so, slowly but surely, I began to deactivate my public self. Today, I border upon being a hermit.

This whole experience has provided me with a valuable lesson. By fighting against my own nature, I unwittingly exacerbated many of my maladies and changed manageable conditions into hard to manage ones. I created enormous amounts of internal stress and tension by trying to be someone I am not.

Today, I'm wrestling with the fallout in my experiment in extroversion. My overall health is only so-so and I don't think it will ever be right again. That said, I'm much more content with my solitary lifestyle than before. I no longer beat myself up for being a loner. I no longer push myself to fit into other people's external definitions.

I'm now living WITHIN -- not against -- my nature. My chief way of connecting with the world is through my writings on this blog.

My purpose in writing this long personal reflection today is the hope that it can serve as a warning to others to try to live the life consistent with the person you are. When we try to be who we are not, we often create the framework for our own downfall. This has certainly proven to be the case for me.

Lessons

Like most everyone I know, there are times that I eat too much or the wrong things. There are times when I overexert or I don't get enough sleep. Simply put, like the rest of you, there are times I don't take as good care of myself as I should and my body lets me know.

Each time something of this nature occurs, there is a lesson to be learned. Usually, the lesson is to cut back on my excesses and to center myself to find balance. As I've aged and matured, I don't have to keep relearning this lesson as often as in my youth. Ah, one sign of wisdom!

Unfortunately, being that I'm a person afflicted with Fibromyalgia and Klinefelter's Syndrome, there are many times when my body goes into revolt and there is no direct lesson involved. There's nothing I can do to ward off the pain and discomfort because it is an internal infirmity. I can follow all the dietary and exercise rules I've come to live by and yet the flare-ups still come whenever they feel like it.

Yet, while there isn't a direct lesson involved, every experience in life can teach each of us a thing or two, if we are open to learning. Out of my chronic pain, I think I've learned to be more compassionate. I don't necessarily show it very well because of my Asperger's, but I think I've learned the lesson, nonetheless.

I've also learned to think and contemplate the world around me more. When a person is feeling really raunchy a good deal of the time, you have a tendency to feel sorry for yourself. You can have excessive pity parties. I've been there. However, once I came to grips with the fact that I'm stuck with these infirmities for life and working a regular job is no longer in the cards, I realized that this freed up my time to become a philosopher of sorts -- to spend a lot of time pondering those fundamental questions that most people simply don't have the time nor energy to ponder.

And so, in many ways, this blog is made possible by my chronic pain. If it didn't have such a big hold on me, I would lead a more normal lifestyle and I would be far more busy which would mean less time to blog.

The big lesson for me is that pain and my weird neurological wiring have upsides as well as downsides. You're looking at one of the former. : )

My Struggle to Think

Let me tell you, I've been really struggling with this ongoing series on the Tao Te Ching! I was enjoying it immensely for the first 3 - 4 weeks -- I couldn't wait to research and write the next day's verse. However, now that I'm struggling with one of my routine flare-ups from fibromyalgia, my ability in regards to concentration has been greatly impaired.

Most days I wake up in a fog that doesn't want to clear. I have a few more lucid moments here and there, but focusing on anything for more than 30 minutes is difficult.

I'm not sharing this info because I want to have a pity party. While dealing with fibro ain't fun, there are millions of people around the world who have issues far greater than mine. Even if my fibro was the worse case the world over, feeling sorry for oneself doesn't do me a lick of good. It is what it is and I simply have to learn to live with it and work around it.

So, if I don't want your pity (and I REALLY don't), why am I sharing this info with you? I just want you all to understand why the recent posts for each day's verse have not been as threshed out as in the weeks before. I'm going to continue to muddle through this as best I can and I'm determined to post a verse per day through October 5.

Hopefully, my fog will clear sometime between now and then. ; )

No Flow

Unfortunately, I think I understand the concept of blockage (no flow) better than the average bloke. When we're each unable to go with the flow, we become stagnant. On an emotional level, we can't seem to motivate ourselves to get up and going. In essence, we become bogged down, mired in a rut.

I've been up almost all night. In fact, it's no longer night anymore! I'm not suffering from emotional or psychic blockage; it's more physical, in nature. Without going into the gory details, my spastic colon is at it again -- a not untypical complaint for those with fibromyalgia.

I've struggled with this -- shall we say -- difficulty for my entire life. Things just sort of stop moving and get hung up. It causes gas, bloating and a good deal of pain. It's not because I eat a poor diet. I partake of plenty of fiber and I drink lots of liquid. Nonetheless, from time to time, things seem to stop moving along their merry way.

Of course, I know what the real culprit is -- stress. While some people get migraines, my focal point is a lot lower. I simply wish I could learn to relax this internal part of my body. Believe me, I've tried, but, as with many things in life, trying is the problem. As Master Yoda (Star Wars) would say, "Don't try. Do."

Enough of that. Just be glad my problem isn't the other side of the coin -- diarrhea. Now that would make for an interesting post!! ;-)

The Pain of it All

Being an individual afflicted with a web of physical issues (degenerative arthritis, fibromyalgia and Klinefelter's Syndrome) in combination with two psychological ones (Asperger's Syndrome and Schizotypal Personality Disorder), my most constant companion is pain! Nary a day goes by when some part of the 'ol body isn't a tad bit under the weather.

I do not state this because I want your sympathy. Each human must deal with their own foibles and frailties. Mine are only worse than yours because they are mine. My pain is the only one can I feel within this thing I call the self. I can sometimes experience yours vicariously -- though certainly not as often nor as well as the average person -- but I can't know your pain as well as I do mine.

Fibromyalgia is characterised by flare-ups and periods of pseudo-remission. During the flare-ups, it's hard for me to visualize what it's like when I don't feel this crappy. During the periods between flare-ups, I sometimes forget how utterly miserable I feel during one. Of course, right now I'm in the middle of nasty flare-up. My routine for the past week has been to sleep, write a little on this blog, read a few of your entries, sleep, read a book, sleep, eat and sleep. Though sleep is mentioned quite frequently, it's certainly NOT a restful sleep.

When I was a believer in the faith, I often asked God why this particular cup had been chosen for me. Like most anyone else, I would prefer to lead an active life and be relatively pain free. God always seemed to be taking care of more important business as he never responded to my pleas for help or understanding.

Of course, I now know that God wasn't ignoring me; he simply doesn't exist. There is no being that inflicted me with my infirmities. There is no being -- other than myself, I suppose -- who can rescue me. I am who and what I am because of a multitude of variables in the cosmic stream of cause and effect.

These days I don't question why my body seems to be betray me over and over again. I realize there is a reason, but it's far too complicated for my limited human brain to comprehend. While this realization doesn't lessen the physical or psychological pain, my inner most consciousness is at peace. It's not wracked by guilt and it doesn't ask "Why me?"

I am who I am and I've learned to accept it. It's not always milk and cookies, but whose life is?

Last Night I Had the Strangest Dream

There's a whole industry that's popped up around the subject of dreams. There are trained [and untrained] folks ready to help you analyze and interpret them. Just browse the internet for a minute or two and you can find scads of sites that deal with the topic in one way or another.

I tend not to spend a lot of time trying to figure out what my dreams mean. For one thing, I don't dream that much. One of the many aspects of my fibromyalgia is that I generally don't sleep long enough at a given time to enter the kind of sleep needed for dreaming and, even in short bursts, I rarely attain the level of deep sleep.

It hasn't always been this way. When I was far younger, I dreamed almost every night. As my condition has progressed, the dreams have faded. Nowadays it happens every once in awhile.

I awoke this morning to one of those rare occasions. I'm not going to share with you the particulars, but the main premise behind this dream has to do with my AS. The dream involved a recurrent theme in which I was supposed to be somewhere for an important event and, through a comedy of errors, I arrived far later than I was supposed to and turned away before anyone realized I was there.

In real life, because I loathe crowds, it is imperative that I arrive early so I can set up my safe haven and plans of escape (in case I become too discombobulated). Once other people show up and start milling around, I become very nervous. If I don't arrive early enough -- I'm often the first person there -- I end up not going in at all because I simply lose my nerve.

I'm fairly sure I know what sparked this dream. My wife & I will need to travel to Portland, Oregon next week to pick up our virtually new car. While I'm excited finally to have reliable transportation, I'm just as horrified that I have to go to a large city to get it!

Mind you, when I lived in Salem, I went to Portland frequently, though not always willingly. But it's quite a different thing traveling to a metro area of around 1 million from a mid-sized city of 200,000 than it is making the same trip from a hamlet of 1,750!! Heck, there are more people and cars in almost any given Portland neighborhood than in my entire county!

Today's modern large cities boasts a highway system -- often an interstate -- that is like quasi-controlled chaos. Most people tend to drive faster than the posted speed limit and vehicles play a sort of musical chairs by changing lanes at the speed of light. For a person who likes things well-ordered and deliberate, I do not handle the traffic of large communities well at all.

Naturally, I'm becoming very anxious at the prospect of having to drive to and in Portland. Who knows? I may be having more strange dreams in the next few days.