There’s this allegory popular among the fibromyagia set that involves “spoons” when trying to describe what FMS feels like to “normies” (heh), and I have to admit, as fashionable as the allegory is, it’s never quite fit my experience with FMS. I never feel like I have a metaphorical budget of spoons that I have to divvy up across a day–for me, I’m usually fine, maybe more easily tired out than others, maybe needing more sleep than others…fine. But when I flare, fuck spoons. When I flare, I usually flare hardcore, old school.

Going through a day feels like a hero’s journey: “A hero ventures forth from the world of common day into a region of supernatural wonder: fabulous forces are there encountered and a decisive victory is won: the hero comes back from this mysterious adventure with the power to bestow boons on his fellow man.” (Joseph Campbell, The Hero with a Thousand Faces).

I will often flare in the early afternoon after having what starts as a relatively normal day. Life then descends into pain, soreness, complete mental fogginess and other such sinister phenomenon: energy-sucking vortexes beyond my control that I can only battle via a bath, an Ambien, and getting directly into bed. The battle between flare and non-flare can last several hours or several days, and when I emerge, I am so freaking pleased to feel better that I try and be three times as productive as any sane human being (boons on my fellow man?).

What I hate most are the less-common meh flares. Rather than the dramatic mêlée described above, my meh flares come on slow, tread lightly, and stick around–rendering me just well enough to move around, talk to people, cook food, and attempt to be productive, but are like the Noid of output–after about 30 minutes of any particular activity, I start to get tired. Dumb. And ruined.

I’ve been having a meh now for a few days. In fact, this entry will start to peter out here any second. Point is, no matter how bad I feel, using a small hairless dog as a living heating pad just seems wrong. Wrong, as in, I think I have now reached the end of the universe, looked over, seen everything, and now am on my way back.

Really? Really? Yup, dogs as heating pads.