Lately, I've felt quite well. You know the routine -- you feel well for a while, then a flare rears it's ugly head from out of nowhere. When I'm flaring several days out of the week, end-on-end, no break, I almost get used to the pain and/or exhaustion. My whole life has been rearranged to accomodate the 'illness.' But then you get a month were you're feeling good most days. "Wow, did I really only have one bad day all week?" A few weeks go by, still feeling pretty good, then a flare. BOOM! You were just starting to feel alive again. Just starting to make plans again, and BOOM! They go up in smoke. I deal with a lot of guilt over being someone with 'part-time' FM pain. I do not want to diminish the severity of pain in FM suffereres who have non-stop pain... ... But when I'm in a flare, I know, at least to some degree, what their pain is like. Today, for instance, my shoulder hurt so bad that in my attempt to do just a little laundry, I could not lift that shoulder. I could barely rotate my neck. I needed to get the laundry done, so I pushed. And I unfortunately discovered there was a certain position that would cause my shoulder to explode with pain so severely, I thought I would faint. Still, I pushed on, leaning against the washer through every pain explosion. A 600mg ibuprofin did not touch the pain, and, in fact, the pain later migrated up my neck, over my shoulders and down my back. By mid-day, I could not move my neck or right shoulder without severe, nauseating pain. My headache threatened to turn into a migraine, but TG, the Ibuprofin diverted that disaster. Only now I've taken so much and my neck is so pinched that I'm getting dizzy spells. Why, oh, why, the torture of feeling better, then a flare? I ask myself all of the time, how have I sinned? What have I done? What can I do to make amends? What can I do to extend my good time frames just a few more days? I don't deserve this! None of us deserve this! But I'm just railing against the wind . And yet inside of myself, there is an inextinguishable flicker of light -- of hope -- says, "Maybe tomorrow will be a better day." I can hope.