#SOL14 - Eviction Time
Pilates was difficult today. I'm not as strong as I used to be; my body groans with each motion. It's as if each joint and muscle is a jealous child, waiting for the opportunity to be heard. During planks and cobra position, my wrists bark up at me, begging for sympathy. Going into bridge must be modified; my arms refuse to support my body. My hips buzz with hot electricity during leg work. With each roll up, my back grimaces with disapproval.
It's a funny thing, this weakness. It came in quick and silent and occupied my body without asking permission. A squatter, claiming stakes.
Oh but weakness, you don't know me. You may have danced around my path time and again, looking for a home, but you aren't welcome here.
You don't know how stubborn I am, how bristled I become when told, "You can't." You haven't noticed the way I come alive at the slightest sign of attack. You must never have witnessed my fierce competitive streak.
My mom has told me since I was very young that in the face of any obstacle my retort was always the same: I can do it! I can do it myself.
So weakness, you may think you've won. My muscles may ache and my joints can complain, but we aren't finished yet. Pack up, squatter. Aches and pains won't stop me, this ridiculous new world called Fibromyalgia won't shake me.
Difficult is my forte. Time for you to find a new home.