The Truth About Fibromyalgia: What You Don’t See

Living with fibromyalgia is like fighting an invisible war. Like being wrapped with a weighted blanket and being expected to move with ease...On the outside, I might look “okay.” But inside, my body feels like it’s constantly on fire...aching, buzzing, throbbing, and reacting to things most people would never even notice.

There’s the deep, aching muscle pain that settles into my body like it’s moved in permanently. My muscles feel bruised and sore, even without injury or exertion.

Sometimes I Actually am covered In bruises, because I also live anemia...Sometimes the pain is a dull throb; other times, a sharp stab. It radiates across my back, down my neck, into my arms and legs. It’s a tight, burning, relentless pain that makes movement feel like walking through wet cement.

Then there are the muscle spasms...sudden, involuntary contractions that tighten without warning, often leaving behind a trail of tension and fatigue.

Nerve pain joins in too...burning, tingling, even buzzing sensations under my cold skin...And sometimes, sharp jolts of electricity shoot through my chest, shoulders, arms, and hands out of nowhere. They stop me in my tracks, stealing my breath for a moment.

Balance and coordination problems come and go. I trip. I bump into doorframes. My footing isn’t always secure. It feels like my body is out of sync with my brain.

And the brain...fibro fog...I forget why I walked into a room... I lose track of conversations... Words escape me mid-sentence. Sometimes I can’t focus, no matter how hard I try.

Forgetfulness and memory issues pile on. My brain feels unreliable, and that’s one of the most frustrating parts...because I’m someone who tries so hard and I feel like a visitor In my own brain sometimes.

The fatigue is relentless. Not just tiredness...bone-deep exhaustion. I can sleep for 10 hours and wake up feeling like I never rested at all. I toss and turn. I wake up 10 to 15 times throughout the night to grab a new ice pack for my back or an ice cap for my head. I shift and readjust, desperate for relief. Sleep is never consistent. Eight to ten hours seems to be the sweet spot, but it’s a moving target. Seven hours isn't enough. Eleven is too much. And even when I hit the “ideal,” it still doesn't guarantee a better day.

Then there’s the emotional toll. Depression. Anxiety. Panic attacks. Mood swings. Some days... I feel raw and vulnerable , or content, leveled and manageable, and detached and overwhelmed on others. And it’s hard to explain it without sounding like I’m making excuses, when really....I’m trying to survive in a body that doesn’t always cooperate.

Fibro flares are the worst. Stress, weather changes, overexertion...anything can trigger them. And when they hit, it’s like every symptom explodes at once. All I can do is rest, breathe, and wait it out.

Sensory overload is constant. I wear sunglasses outside, and inside, it’s lamps only...never harsh lights. Sounds, smells, textures...they all hit differently now. Even something as simple as my husband’s cologne...once comforting...now triggers an instant migraine when it’s first sprayed. He now sprays it in another room for me. And even still, I love the smell of his cologne… just not in the moment it fills the air...

Because...the migraines...

The kind that slam into my skull like an ice pick. Sometimes they last for hours. Sometimes they linger for days. And they’ve sent me to the hospital more times than I can count over the years. Looking back, migraines were actually my first symptom of fibromyalgia. I was just 17 when they started....before I even had a name for what I was feeling. I now realize it was the beginning of a much larger story my body was trying to tell.

There’s weakness in my muscles, times It even hurts to pick up my chapstick or my phone...and then there’s what they call the fibro dropsies...those random moments when things just fall from my hands without warning. It’s not clumsiness...it’s my brain sending signals to my muscles to relax because they’re already so tight and overworked. And my hands, in particular, carry this deep, burning ache every single day. It feels exactly like what people describe arthritis to feel like...stiff, swollen, and sore. There’s a constant throbbing now in my fingers, my palms, my wrists. And it’s spreading...into my feet, into my legs. That dull, relentless soreness is always there, like my body is stuck in a state of aftershock. Even when I’m not doing anything, the pain lingers like a shadow I can’t shake.

Even things like heavier menstrual cramps, digestive issues and nausea have become normal. My stomach flares when it wants. My appetite disappears. Bloating shows up randomly. Everything feels unpredictable.

It’s sitting in the car and having to wedge a random bottle between the seat and my spine just to make the ride bearable.

It’s the shift from working to not working, from being independent to dependent. From days packed with schedules and purpose to slow-paced days where simply showering is a win. I used to balance jobs, errands, deadlines, and still have energy to spare. Now I have to carefully ration what I do each day. because my body no longer lets me just push through...

Right now I'm writing this in bed...This transition isn’t just physical...it’s emotional. It's grieving the version of me that once was, while learning how to accept and care for the version of me that now is.

It’s knowing that movement and exercise might help...but some days, I can’t even manage a walk around the room without pain stealing my strength.

It’s trying to find the right medication, only to start over again when the side effects get too strong. It’s managing new symptoms every time you think you’ve figured one out. It’s the constant balancing, juggling, and restarting. It’s rebuilding a routine over and over again.

This is what fibromyalgia really looks like. It’s more than pain. It’s a full-body, full-sensory, full-life condition. It doesn’t just affect how I feel physically...it impacts every single area of my life: how I move, think, eat, sleep, work, worship, love, and show up in the world.

If you’ve ever wondered what’s behind my quiet moments… the lamps… the sunglasses… the days I cancel plans…the mood swings... the sleep-ins and the skipped calls… this is it. I’m not lazy. I’m not dramatic. I’m not unreliable. I’m fighting an invisible illness...and I’m doing it with all the strength I have.

Because this body? It might be in pain, but it’s still mine. It’s still showing up. It’s still here.

"My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever." – Psalm 73:26

Kristen, Unfiltered Xo 💋