Living with Chronic Pain: A Journey Through Fibromyalgia

I grew up surrounded by adventure and discovery. My family was deeply involved in rockhounding and dinosaur digging, a lifestyle that brought me joy and a sense of purpose. My grandmother, famously known as the "Dino Lady," passed her passion on to me. From a young age, I spent countless hours in the badlands, climbing rocks and searching for fossils, completely unaware of the toll it was taking on my body.

As I got older, I became a volunteer firefighter. I served for eight years, helping our rural community in ways that made me proud. But firefighting came with physical demands, and I witnessed firsthand the devastating effects of chronic pain. We lost two firefighters due to pain-related errors, a tragedy that stayed with me. Eventually, the pain I had been ignoring became impossible to push through, and I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia. It felt like the two things that had defined my life—fossil hunting and firefighting—were taken away in an instant.

When I was diagnosed, I felt completely overwhelmed. I knew people with fibromyalgia who lived active, happy lives. Why was mine different? The relief of having a diagnosis quickly faded when the doctor explained that my fibromyalgia was more complicated. My immune system was attacking my nerves, and years of overworking my body had worn down my resources. I was told that the pain would only get worse with age. I was devastated.

These days, my life looks very different. I wake up stiff and in pain every morning. It’s so intense that I can barely move. I spend the first two hours of my day stretching, trying to loosen up my muscles enough to function. Once the pain becomes bearable, I take my muscle relaxers and pain medication. Around midday, when my body starts to stiffen again, I use a Cubii—a small exercise device—to help keep my joints mobile. Even with pain medication three times a day, I often find myself on the edge of tears.

Managing the pain has become my full-time job. I rely on herbal teas, especially calming and anti-inflammatory blends, to soothe my body. I meditate, practice breathing techniques, and use poultices for the frequent bruises and sprains that come with my condition. These methods don’t cure the pain, but they help me stay in control of it.

If I had known what was coming, I would have done things differently. I would have spent more time in the hills with my family, savoring the moments. I would have chosen gentler digs and rockhounding outings as I got older. I would have stayed involved as a firefighter but taken on less physically demanding roles like running trucks or managing traffic.

I’ve lost a huge part of my life and identity. On a typical day, I spend eight hours just managing my pain. I crochet when my wrists allow it, and I care for my service dogs, even on days when I’m too exhausted to shower or eat. Simple tasks like making the bed or doing laundry take four times longer than they used to. At night, I wake up every hour, and it takes me another hour to calm the pain enough to fall asleep again.

Despite all of this, I try to focus on what makes life worth living. Pain is a constant presence, but positive thinking and the right treatments—both traditional and alternative—make life manageable. Though I’ve lost many of the things I once loved, I refuse to give up. I won’t surrender to the pain. It’s hard, but life is still very much worth living.