Trying 2 Come 2 Grips With Disability

The life I used to have was filled with activities and hobbies. I loved being involved in sports and doing what truly interested me. Being a couch potato was definitely not in the cards for me. As a matter of fact, I used to swim 2 miles, run a mile and bike 5-10 miles a day- everyday. Except weekends- I would slack off on the swimming 2 miles on Saturdays and Sundays.

I continued this regimen well into my 30's. I looked forward to the day when I could be active with my own children, as I taught swimming and gym to youngsters for about 15 years. I taught at the YMCA, the city pools all summer and some high school pools in the winter. I also swam in the Master Swimming program for a number of years, during very rigorous workouts for hours at a time- which I loved.

You can't imagine how devastated I have been to be so crippled now that I have 3 sons- and my youngest is 11 years old. I can barely walk on a good day, let alone run and bike and swim everyday, like I used to do.

However, I don't seem to have very much pain at all when I swim- and I can still swim pretty fast and fairly long- with some practice. In the summer, I would love to swim everyday, and the exposure to the bright sunlight is excellent for dispelling the deep, dark and dreaded depression that is always prevalent with Fibromyalgia. Swimming makes me feel good.

Unfortunately, I don't have access to a swimming pool all year round, and cannot afford to join the Y right now. But I have dreams that someday soon I will be able to get back in shape somewhat again. I actually do dream about swimming. It is an extremely calming dream, and I always feel better after I dream about swimming. Pulling myself through the water, feeling my muscles stretch, reach and pull while I glide through the endless pool in my dream, not bothering with turns or having other swimmers in my way- it's great!

Back to reality really is a buzz kill. As my father used to say, I have more problems than you can shake a stick at. As David Letterman says, I have more problems than a monkey on a rock.

Everyday I get deluged with bad mail. Bad mail is bad news that comes in the form of the USPS - delivering in rain, sleet or snow. Two weeks ago, I received 30 pieces of mail that were all not good news. This deliverance really puts a damper on my day and makes the depression unbearable. Mostly all of the bearers of bad news have come from Bradex in his quest to continuously destroy my family's life. And, apparently, there aren't enough lawyers in the world to stop this slimy, slippery snake from infesting our lives.

It is pretty hard to fight 30 different directions all at once. People (who do not know) suggest that I just take one problem at a time. What they don't realize is the magnitude and urgency of these problems takes almost immediate action, or the problem will triple in size and complexity.

What I really need is for all these people who like to give their advice so freely is to stop, take a minute or two, and give me some time to help me. Normally, I am not one to ask for help. All my life, I have been very independent. I like being independent and making my own decisions. But lately, I need some help. I need some people that claim to be friends to give me some time and help me get the things that I need to get done. I have been waiting patiently for years now.

My kids deserve the time for their activities while they are still children. Right now, I have been relegated to be the coach on the sideline for my boys, instead of being an active participant, teaching my kids sports by example- which is definitely the way I would have preferred to do it.

I'm not getting any younger, as my father used to say.

Brash