Escape.

By now, many of you have realised that I refuse to just sit back and let me condition rule my life. I prefer to carry on doing the things I love, even if it has to be a slightly toned down version. Since becoming ill, I have discovered a hobby that, although physically demanding, allows me to escape the world of pain and exhaustion. I like to live role-play.

For anyone not familiar with this concept, I dress up in fantasy costume, sometimes I paint my face, I pick up a foam and latex weapon and charge off into battle. Admittedly, the only time I ever use a weapon is to parry blows, but I still have a great time. For those who are not inflicted with chronic pain, it is a brutal, highly physical hobby. For those of us who are, it is somewhat softer. I tend to prefer playing a healer, so I float along behind a party, watch them spring into action and then appear with either a roll of bandages or a nifty incantation that will fix any broken limbs and allow the fighters to continue keeping me safe.

Most systems seem to allow for players to avoid combat in one way or another. I now play with two different groups, who do this differently. One group give me a white sash which renders me immune from combat - incredibly useful for a healer - and the other tells me to run away as fast as I can. At the latter I have been hit twice, and it can be incredibly painful, but given how long I have been playing being hit twice is reassuringly low. When I compare it to how many times I've cracked heads with another backstroker, accidentally stuck needles into my fingers (or legs, or arms, or belly...) or fallen over trying to get from one room to another, I do find LRP a surprisingly painless hobby.

The other thing that LRP offers that other hobbies don't is the opportunity to escape. If you look at videos such as the one below, you will see how immersive the experience is, and what an amazing opportunity it offers to escape the routine of daily life. LRPers will tell you time and time again that you can be whoever you want to be, and whatever you want to be, and when I devise my characters I choose not to be ill, and not to be in constant pain. It's not foolproof, but the difference in pain levels catches me by surprise every time I play. And this is why LRP changed my life.

Any of you who have known me for a while will know that earlier this year I experienced a change. The pain changed for me, and I am now much happier in myself. Some of this was due to a change in medication. Some of it was due to a change in mindset. I realised that when I am Ezra, or Thalia, or Jessalyn, or Ruby I manage my pain in a completely different manner. It is still there, I just choose to feel it in different ways. Each of my characters deals with their pain in a different way, and this made me realise that as Sally I can choose the method of coping that works best for me. And if I work really hard, in time, I will be able to escape it altogether.

Now I'm not saying that LRP is a magical cure and that every chronic pain sufferer should throw themselves whole-heartedly into playing. I have simply found that this is the way of escaping that works for me. What I do think every chronic pain sufferer should do if they want to get better is to find the hobby, the mindset, the activity or whatever else it is that gives them a way to escape. It is hard work being in constant pain, and we all deserve a way out.

Clutter.

I always forget how many facets conditions like fibromyalgia can have. I've reminded myself of this repeatedly over the last two weeks, as I have run myself so ragged that I haven't had time to blog.

It all started when I decided that the time was right to find a more convenient premises than A New Leaf, and move into the Regus building, which is something I have been considering for a long time. The idea of this is that if I am located somewhere like Kings Hill I can treat local office workers and Mums, for whom A New Leaf is simply not convenient. Even if it is a spectacular oasis of calm. In order to streamline as much as possible, whilst still carrying everything I needed, I went through my large case and cleared out all of the stuff that I don't use any more. There was a surprisingly large amount of it. And everything felt much better for getting rid of unnecessary clutter.

This inspired me to get rid of more unnecessary clutter in my life. I've had a good clear out (okay, well not a good clear out, but it's a start) in my back room, and put a load on ebay. It'll feel good to have a bit of space back, and a few more pennies in my purse will feel even better. And hopefully this will pave the start of a good habit for me, and I will be able to keep my physical space free of clutter.

Of course, it's not just physical clutter that can make a fibromyalgic feel rough. I'm sure many of you are familiar with the feeling of fibro fog. For those of you who aren't, this is a feeling of fog on the brain, that makes your brain move slowly, words seem outside of your grasp, and any kind of mental faculty something you can only dream of. And, sadly, clearing the clutter out of your mind is not as easy as clearing it out of your home. I find a bit of meditation can really help, but sometimes the clutter feels so thick that any amount of sitting quietly cannot give you space to clear your mind. And I feel like this has been the case for me recently.

My personal goal for this week is to find a little bit of time every day to zone out and meditate. I will clear my mind of errant thoughts, and focus on a slow progression of numbers counting from 1 to 10. Every time a sneaky thought pops into my brain, I will thank it and ask it to return later when it is more convenient. I don't know if I will make it to 10. It's an exercise I find very difficult. But one thing I can be sure of is that if I practise every day I will find it much easier by the end of the week than I did at the beginning.