I apologize, readers, for being gone so long. I was having one of those ^ and I got that feeling. You know that feeling.. when you are flaring and you go to do something and it feels like your insides melt and panic at the idea of even opening up your laptop. I am not scared of my laptop. Skippy is scared.
Skippy is my new name for my alter ego. Let me tell you a little bit about Skippy. Skippy has Fibromyalgia. She has had it for 6 years now. Skippy has a hard time.. well.. most of the time. Skippy doesn't take enough showers because they make her so tired. Skippy has a wookie between her legs because she can't bring herself to groom down there with numb hands. Skippy doesn't sleep well. Tammie has Skippy firmly in hand and works every day to walk with Skippy and some new rules.
Skippy is the name because when I talk out loud things take so long to get out of my mouth that I end up saying things like "She shouldn't have a chhh m-m-m- fuck it" Skippy has said literally that <--- exact sentence. Skippy thinks some days that she is having a heart attack and Tammie can spend hours laying still because she knows that it isn't her heart, but her body will not listen.
Skippy says things like, "tell that to my nervous condition.. which is really Skippy. Tell it to skippy.
Tammie knows that intellectually a billion bugs are not, in fact, surrounding her if she is outside at night, however, Skippy does not listen. Skippy freaks out and comes back inside.
Skippy hates walking up hills and hates extreme weather of any kind. Skippy's arms feel like they are on a planet where the gravity pushes harder than here on earth. Tammie finds it odd on the days that they hurt so badly that all she can do it lay there and not move them, but even that isn't enough. Skippy wants there to be holes in the mattress, thinking that lowering them will help. It won't, nothing will.
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