THE FIBROMATES JOURNAL

Irene Roth, Blog Editor

There are days when stillness feels impossible.

Your body aches, your thoughts race, and rest doesn’t feel restful at all. You lie down, hoping for relief, but discomfort lingers—sometimes louder in the quiet than in the movement. For those living with fibromyalgia, stillness is not always peaceful. It can feel like a confrontation with everything that hurts.

So how do we find stillness when our bodies won’t cooperate?

The first step is to gently redefine what stillness actually means. Stillness is not the absence of sensation. It is not a perfectly quiet body or a pain-free moment. Stillness is something softer than that. It is an inner posture—a willingness to stop fighting, even when the body is unsettled.

This can be incredibly difficult.

We are so used to trying to fix, to soothe, to escape discomfort. We shift positions, distract ourselves, or push through the moment. And sometimes those things are necessary. But there is also a quiet invitation beneath all of that effort: what would it feel like to simply be with yourself, even here?

This doesn’t mean accepting pain in a passive or hopeless way. It means meeting the moment with a little less resistance. It means saying, even silently, this is where I am right now, and I can soften into it just a little.

Stillness, in this sense, becomes less about control and more about presence.

It may begin with something very small. Noticing your breath—not changing it, just noticing it. Feeling the weight of your body supported by the chair or bed beneath you. Letting your shoulders drop by even a fraction. These are subtle shifts, but they matter.

You might also find that stillness doesn’t require complete quiet. Sometimes, a gentle anchor helps—a soft piece of music, the hum of a fan, the rhythm of rain outside your window. Stillness can exist alongside sound. It is less about silence and more about a sense of settling.

There is also permission here—to move if you need to. Stillness is not rigid. If your body asks you to stretch, to shift, to sit up or lie down, that is not a failure of stillness. It is a form of listening. True stillness includes responsiveness.

Perhaps the most important part of this practice is compassion.

On the days when your body won’t cooperate, it is easy to become frustrated or even critical of yourself. You may feel like you are doing something wrong, like you should be able to rest more easily. But your experience is not a flaw—it is a reality. And meeting that reality with kindness changes everything.

Stillness is not something you achieve. It is something you allow, in small, imperfect moments.

It might last only a few seconds at first. That’s okay. Over time, those seconds can begin to stretch. Not because the pain disappears, but because your relationship to it shifts.

You begin to create space within the discomfort. And in that space, there is a different kind of quiet—not the quiet of a perfectly calm body, but the quiet of not struggling against yourself.

And sometimes, that is enough.

by Guest Blogger/Lou Paré-Lobinske

You wouldn’t think it would

be,

but it is.

Lying on the floor, or on a bed,

propped up in several ways.

Pillows or blankets work.

Your head higher than your chest,

your chest higher than your legs.

Your legs in Cobbler’s Pose –

knees bent, soles of the feet together,

with pillows under the knees

so there’s no stretch at the groin.

Lay back and relax.

Feel the tension melt away

from your entire being.

Float away on a cloud

as long as you like.

Feel the peace

permeate your body,

your soul and your mind.

Feel yourself hesitate to come out of the pose,

not wanting to lose

this luscious, serene feeling.

Sigh and realize

that the DVR has gone into sleep mode,

so maybe you better move on to the next pose.

You can always come back tomorrow.

* Please note: the name of the overall pose is actually the Supported Bound Angle Pose

About the Author: Lou Paré-Lobinske is 59 years old and based in north Florida, USA. She is a published poet and journalist and has a freelance editing business. She also has two blogs and a Patreon because she doesn’t have enough to do. She has had fibromyalgia for 28 years. She lives with her husband of 39 years and their four cats.

By Irene Roth, Blog Editor

There is a quiet but powerful misconception that follows many people living with fibromyalgia and chronic illness: the belief that if you are not constantly doing, producing, or keeping up, you must be lazy.

It is a harsh and deeply unfair label—one that often comes not only from others, but from within.

But what if the truth is something entirely different?

What if you are not lazy at all… but instead, you are managing your energy in a way that most people never have to think about?

Living with fibromyalgia means living in a body where energy is not predictable, steady, or unlimited. It comes in waves. Some days offer a small window of clarity and movement. Other days feel heavy before they even begin. This is not a failure of effort. It is a reality of the condition.

Yet we live in a world that measures worth by output.

We are praised for doing more, pushing harder, staying busy. Rest is often seen as something to be earned after productivity. And so, when your body asks you to slow down, to stop, or to do less, it can feel like you are somehow falling short.

But you are not falling short.

You are adapting.

Energy management is not laziness—it is awareness. It is learning how to live within your limits without constantly harming yourself in the process. It is making choices, often difficult ones, about where your energy goes and what truly matters.

You may look at your day and see fewer tasks completed than you had hoped. But what you may not see—what others certainly do not see—is the invisible work happening beneath the surface. The effort it takes to get out of bed. The strength required to move through pain. The mental focus needed to stay present through fatigue.

This is not laziness. This is resilience.

Managing energy also means learning to listen to your body before it forces you to listen. It means recognizing early signs of depletion and responding with care rather than resistance. It means allowing yourself to rest not because you have “earned” it, but because you need it.

This shift can be incredibly challenging, especially if you have spent years pushing through and measuring yourself against others. Letting go of that mindset takes time. It requires you to redefine what productivity and success look like in your life.

Perhaps success is not about how much you accomplish in a day, but how well you honor your needs.

Perhaps productivity includes rest, reflection, and recovery.

Perhaps doing less is not a step backward, but a step toward sustainability.

There is also courage in setting boundaries around your energy. Saying no when something is too much. Choosing one meaningful activity instead of many draining ones. Giving yourself permission to stop before you reach complete exhaustion.

These are not signs of weakness. They are signs of self-respect.

You are learning how to live in a way that supports your well-being, not undermines it.

And that matters.

So the next time that voice whispers that you are not doing enough, pause for a moment. Consider what you are doing. Consider the effort it takes to navigate your days with care and awareness.

You are not lazy.

You are thoughtful. You are adaptive. You are strong in ways that are not always visible.

You are managing your energy—and that is a skill, a strength, and a quiet form of wisdom that deserves to be recognized.