I'm going on 9 years with Myofascial Pain Syndrome/Fibromyalgia. What makes me full of guilt and anger is I'm all alone, only living with my mother, who was a fulltime housewife, and doesn't understand that a man's job has always been to work. Try dating someone who is a male and living with his mother. Impossible. The physical pain is bad enough, but the emotional pain of being all alone is unbearable. I graduated from college in 1976 in Mass Communications and looked forward to spending my life with someone. Yes, I know there are thousands who are divorced, and I'm always told how lucky I am to have never married. Well, when those who were divorced were married, for how long as possible, you at least had someone to share a life with. Since I'm male, I have to show a macho image. But, I'm extremely lonely. I haven't eaten out with someone my age (50 years old) for months. Try looking at a Friday newspaper on what to do with the family on a particular weekend, knowing that one will spend the whole weekend alone. I don't care to go anywhere alone, especially dining out. I was always an outgoing, funloving person who enjoyed casual conversation. There are NO support groups for me living in Milwaukee. If I'm feeling sorry for myself, I apologize. I'm just very lonely for lacking ANY friends (male or female). I'm as isolated as one can be, and I don't know where to turn to change this. I want to work so badly, but my energy level is not there, and my constant pain is demoralizing. Let me also mention that before I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia, I underwent seven intestinal operations for bowel obstructions. In 1980-81, I had three operations. From 1994-96, I had four operations, including two within five days. I was in intensive care for four days, and was briefly on a ventilator. So, it's been one painful existence. My whole body just wore down completely from all the operations, and I believe my Fibromyalgia resulted from the intravenous use of antibiotics while I was hospitalized. All I can say is loneliness is a living hell. It really is. And there is no one who understands what I'm going through. Everyone who knows my mother privately can't comprehend why I'am living with her. They all believe I have some mental problem. And not understanding the real facts, I can't blame them for making that assessment. I don't know where to turn.