Appetite

                                                          The Battle No One Sees

Let’s talk about something I rarely see mentioned in fibromyalgia conversations: appetite. Or rather—the complete mess that appetite can become when your body is fighting an invisible war.

Some days, I cry because I have to eat. The thought of chewing, swallowing, the textures, the effort—it all feels overwhelming. My body feels too tired to even digest, and yet I know I need fuel. I know I need nutrients. I know, logically, that skipping meals won’t help me heal—but emotionally, mentally, and physically, eating can feel like climbing a mountain I never signed up for.

Then there are the other days—where all I want is liquid. I want to drown in water, juice, tea… anything but food. It’s like my body is desperate to soothe itself, but can’t figure out what it needs. I drink and drink, hoping the heaviness in my chest or the fog in my head will lighten. Sometimes it helps. Sometimes it doesn’t.

And of course, there are rare moments where hunger strikes hard—and I eat too quickly, too much, only to be met with nausea, guilt, or a flare-up in pain. It’s like my relationship with food lives on a pendulum, and I never know which way it’s going to swing.

I’ve learned that it’s not just about hunger—it’s about trauma, pain, sensory overload, and fatigue. My nervous system is constantly on edge. My digestive system is slow. My emotions sit close to the surface. All of it plays a role.

And while this is my reality, it’s also something that feels hard to explain. People often talk about fibromyalgia as “just” muscle pain or fatigue—but the truth is, it affects everything, even the most basic human need: eating.

If you’re reading this and nodding along, please know: I get it. You’re not alone in this complicated, confusing relationship with food. You’re not weak or failing. You’re doing what you can to survive in a body that doesn’t always make sense.

Sometimes surviving looks like sipping soup through a straw. Sometimes it’s skipping a meal and coming back when you’re ready. Sometimes it’s crying over a piece of toast because it feels like too much. And all of it is valid.

Be gentle with yourself. Try small things. Keep nourishing when and how you can. And know this:

You are doing the best you can with the body you’ve been given. And that is something to be proud of—even if it doesn’t always feel like it.

Follow me on twitter for updates https://x.com/FlareflourishF