1sweed's blog

Somedays I am filled with a sense of hope, a hope that stems from the depth of my heart that I will wake up some morning and the fibro will be gone. This hope has lots of dreams and memories of plans I had for my life that got buried in boxes when my fibro moved into the house.

I have been going through those boxes and sorting out the dreams and memories. Some of these came in the form of old forgotten letters, while others are in articles and clippings from newspapers detailing how to live off-grid in the wilderness.

It seems everyday I come to this forum, I learn new things and make new friends. But what am I doing to help myself in this endless sea of new hidden faces of friends that I have grown to care about.

I am reaching out, like a hand extended into outer space and tonching lives of people I will never meet, but whose lives are so similar to mine that at times I feel their great sorrows and joys.
This feeling is strange in a way because I don't know them, but they are important friends and links held together by a thread called 'Fibromyalgia.'