rita

No Matter the Limits....
As featured in Fibromyalgia and Chronic Myofascial Pain 2nd Ed: A Survival Manual
Devin Starlanyl and Mary Ellen Copeland. Email Rita Shaw, if you are interested in her work.

It is such a relief
when you first find out,
that the pain really does
have a name.

And then you will ask,
(and every one does)
just where can I place
all the blame?

No matter the limits
no matter the pain,
there's no evil, cruel
master plan.

It just simply happens,
it just simply is,
you adapt, and you change
what you can.

But even with knowing
the best and the worst,
all the pitfalls the
future could hold.

You still have a choice,
you quit or you fight,
you determine the
story that's told.

And every small step
that we take, my dear friends,
each battle that we
slowly win,

Just credits the love
and the caring we share,
with the FMily that we
call our friends.

**Copyright Rita Shaw, 1995

The Gift of Lilacs

When pain became a constant intruder
past, present, and forseeable future
the anger and frustration invading my every move
with sharpshattered glass of vivid scarlet,
I fled to my garden, where I could rage unseen.

Each weed became a dream since lost
torn by its roots and thrown
onto an evergrowing pile of unattainable goals.
Every overgrown bush became a living sacrifice,
falling victim to the reality of the life now faced.

I slashed and I cursed
until suddenly my finger was snared by a big,
vicious,
piercing
thorn!
And I sat sobbing, more from sadness than pain.

The morning breeze gave a gentle sigh, and
I became aware of the lilac by my shoulder,
planted just last spring on the shy side of June.
The first, fragile blossoms had tumbled open
and its fragrance stilled my tears and eased my grief.

Then Nature, in her wisdom, turned
the earth once more upon its silent axis.
Pain and sorrow silenced by quiet beauty.
Gifts given only to those whose eyes are open,
soothing lavendar salve, perfumed to heal my wounds.

*Copyright Rita Shaw 1995

PRIOR CONVICTIONS

I was convinced that my life
was firmly in hand,
at least, that's what I said.
Until I found out
(as people said of my pain)
'You know, that is all in your head!'

My battles were waged
against this disease,
'I'll carry my share, damn the cost!'
But reactions I got
from both family and friends,
told me clearly just what I had lost.

My concentration was shot,
my memory was nil,
and I'd lost what was left of my mind.
For physical sports,
friends wouldn't even call,
they thought they were just being kind.

I raged all alone
in my own little world,
betrayed by my body and hurt.
With isolation, and anger,
low-self image and more,
the dependency hurt me the worst...

until the 'I' that I was
quit fighting in vain,
and the 'I that I am' came to be.
Acceptance, adapting,
and coping with life
were the secrets that set me free.

I find that my life
is now full and complete,
once I set my priorities in place.
I have time for myself,
my family and friends,
since I live at a more tranquil pace.

You'll discover for all
the chores you let go,
each time that you step aside,
all the tasks and the errands
and trivial things
someone else will now handle in stride.

If you really want
to take charge of yourself,
know which battles you DON'T need to win.
For the first time, you'll know,
you ARE in control,
and the rest of your life can begin.

Relax, adapt
and take charge, my dear friends.
for you know that's what you must do.
If you care for yourself,
let go and let love,
and the world will still wait for you.

*Rita Shaw copyright 1995

You say you understand....

You said you understand
just what I am going thru and how I feel.
I don't believe you!
First you must go to bed each night for a month
only to be wakened every two hours or so by the pain
from the rocks on which you sleep.
You must have a diet which keeps you within sprinting distance
from the 'rest' room where you never rest,
while providing fragrant gas, extra calories and copious heartburn.
You know those 'pregnancy bellys' they give men to help them understand
how the pregnant woman feels?
You must wear a suit with fifty pounds of extra weight
spread everywhere, pulling on muscles you never knew you had
until they scream in protest against the strain.
Every walk, every step that you take must be uphill
and on uneven ground with pitfalls and potholes at every turn
waiting for your unstable gait and ankles lusting to throw you one more time.
You must wear mufflers over your ears
that distort what is spoken clearly to others.
Instructions must be given half in an unknown language
and at a speed and complexity that forbids comprehension.
Your daily tasks must be exactly twice your ability to complete.
Your memory and judgement must be clouded by drugs and/or exhaustion
until you question your sanity, intelligence and emotional stability,
while you continue to struggle to maintain your separate identity
above and beyond this invader that has taken over your body.
Your pleas for understanding and relief must fall on deaf ears
of family, friends, co-workers, medical personnel, and government officials.
And all of the above limitations must be invisible, intolerable and denied
by those who proclaim
'Have you tried therapy, bucking up, working a little harder, paying attention,
for you know these problems are probably just in your mind. If you
would just try......'

Then, I might believe you understand.

*Rita Shaw copyright 1995

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