Fibromyalgia- The Misunderstood Angry Pain Disease

Brooke Tahir

Fibromyalgia is not just a condition; it's a relentless shadow that follows you through life, wearing you down with its invisible pain. It is often misunderstood, dismissed as something "in your head" when, in reality, it’s a deep, tangible agony that touches every part of the body. It’s genetic, and though its symptoms vary, it affects everybody differently. For some, it feels like a daily battle with no respite, and for others, it’s an unpredictable rollercoaster. Yet, despite its cruelty, it is a condition that stays with you—often for life.

Fibromyalgia is a thief of joy, taking away the simple pleasures of life. It brings:

• Exhaustion so deep it feels like your very bones are weighed down.

• Sleepless nights, where the body aches and the mind can’t find peace.

• Cognitive fog, where concentration slips through your fingers like sand, and even the simplest tasks become monumental.

• Headaches that are not just a nuisance, but another layer of pain.

• And mood disturbances, because how can you stay positive when every part of you feels like it's been shattered?

No one really knows the exact cause of fibromyalgia, but it's understood to involve the brain and nervous system processing pain abnormally. For years, doctors dismissed it, telling us it was “all in our heads,” not realising the true horror of living with a body that betrays you every single day. It’s a complex illness caused by many factors -genetics, infections, trauma, and stress, but the truth is, there is no cure and painkillers are just a brutal band-aid ruining your body in other ways.

I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia when I was just 19. My mother had it too. Growing up, I watched her struggle in ways I couldn’t comprehend. I’d see her in constant pain, trying to get out of bed, her body locked in spasms, her legs sometimes buckling beneath her. I didn’t understand back then. I didn’t know what it meant to live in that constant pain. I’d wonder if it was all really that bad, and even thought, like so many others, maybe exercise could help, maybe she just needed to push through.

But now, in my thirties, I feel the weight of those words heavy on my heart. The guilt is overwhelming because now, I get it. The disease has only grown more relentless with time, and the suffering is no longer something I can ignore or try to explain away. It has taken hold of me in ways I never could’ve imagined.

In my twenties, I struggled with both fibromyalgia and endometriosis, but I still couldn’t fully understand what my mother went through. I watched her suffer, sometimes bedridden, sometimes seemingly invincible. I was naive, thinking that pain could have a simple explanation or solution, but as my own flare-ups became more frequent, I began to realise just how wrong I was.

Now, the disease is not just something I read about in a textbook, it’s a part of me. It’s woven into the fabric of my life, a constant reminder that I am never truly free from it. The pain is not just a temporary discomfort; it’s a persistent ache that slowly consumes you. And every time I get hit with a flare-up, I feel a bit more like my mother. I see myself in her, and I fear for what lies ahead.

Stress is a trigger, and I’ve learned the hard way how quickly it can set off a chain reaction. Just recently, I had one of the worst flare-ups I’ve ever experienced. It was like my entire body was on fire. My joints felt as though they were being twisted and bruised at the same time. My muscles burned, my skin was hypersensitive, and the pain wouldn’t let up. I was exhausted and still am, sick to my stomach, unable to eat without feeling the internal agony of every bite. The pain isn’t just physical, it is all-consuming, a relentless force that won’t let me forget it exists for even a moment.

Now, I’m asked why I use a walking stick sometimes. People don’t understand and saying things like: how can you just get better? Why don’t you use it all the time? They don’t see the real struggle, the invisible battle we face every day. And that’s the cruel irony of fibromyalgia: it’s invisible. People see you walking, see you smiling, and they assume you’re fine. They don’t understand the exhaustion that follows every step, or the crippling pain that lurks just beneath the surface.

What makes fibromyalgia even harder to bear is the lack of understanding. The treatments sound simple, but they’re not. Exercise? Try telling your body that when every movement sends shockwaves of pain through you. Stress management? How can you focus on calming your mind when your body is in constant rebellion? Sleep improvement? How do you sleep when the pain keeps you up, tossing and turning all night? And dietary changes? They’re a challenge on good days, but when you can’t even get out of bed, how are you supposed to prepare a healthy meal? The list goes on, and each "solution" feels like a hollow promise.

And yet, despite the pain, despite the stigma, we push on. We learn to live with fibromyalgia because we have no choice. We learn to fight against the judgment, the misunderstandings, and the helplessness. We learn to adapt, to accept that some days will be worse than others, and that it’s okay to rest, to say no, to prioritise our well-being.

For many of us, we still work full-time and have adapted to managing both our pain and discomfort because we can't let Fibromyalgia beat us down forever. Yes, all I wrote above is true but, with a chronic health condition, it is important to have an employer that understands also. Luckily, we have flexible work options which still allow people like me to work full-time, do impactful work and be efficient whilst working from home where we can properly manage our health comfortably. These days, we have ergonomic chairs and other office equipment that allows us to be as comfortable as possible while we do what we love and that is a really impactful thing for people with chronic health conditions.

For those who love someone with fibromyalgia, your support means the world. It’s not about fixing them, it’s about being there when they can’t stand on their own. It’s about educating yourself so you understand that their pain is real. It’s about being patient when they can’t keep up with plans, and offering emotional support when they feel isolated and hopeless. It’s about helping with daily tasks when they simply don’t have the energy to do them, and offering encouragement without pushing them too hard.

And above all, it’s about respect. Respect for their boundaries, respect for their struggles, and respect for their strength.

I’ll never fully understand my mother’s pain until I walk her path every single day. But I am trying. And I am learning. The journey is difficult, but it’s not one we have to face alone. Together, with awareness, compassion, and love, we can help bring light to the darkness that is fibromyalgia.