The small things I took for granted

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                                                        Oh, How I Miss the Small Things



Some days, I catch myself thinking about the small things. The ones I used to do without even blinking. Brushing my hair without my arms aching. Going for a walk without planning recovery time. Laughing too hard without my ribs feeling bruised. Waking up without pain already waiting.

Omw, I miss the small things.

When you live with an invisible illness like fibromyalgia, you grieve in quiet ways. Not for a person you lost, but for the version of yourself who used to exist before pain made a home inside your body. And because that pain is unseen, the world keeps moving as if nothing changed — while everything did.


I miss spontaneous plans. The kind where you say “yes” without needing to calculate how long you’ll be on your feet, how loud the environment will be, how many spoons it’ll take just to get dressed. Now, spontaneity feels like a luxury I can’t afford.


I miss energy that didn’t come with a price. I used to run errands, clean, meet friends, and still have fuel left over. These days, making a phone call can feel like climbing a mountain. Cooking dinner might mean I need to lie down right after. I never knew how precious energy was until my body stopped handing it out freely.


I miss my own reliability. I used to be the dependable one. The one people could count on. Now, I cancel plans. I say no more than I say yes. Not because I don’t care — but because I do. I care about showing up fully, and fibromyalgia doesn’t always let me do that. So I protect my limited energy, and that comes with a cost — especially to my heart.


I miss being able to move without thinking. No planning. No pacing. No pre-medicating. I miss putting on jeans without pain. I miss dancing in my kitchen without stiffness. I miss being able to lie in bed without my body feeling like it’s on fire. Even rest doesn’t feel restful anymore.


But here’s the thing I’ve come to understand: missing the old me doesn’t mean I’m not proud of the new me.


This version of me — the one who endures pain no one sees, who keeps going even when her body begs her to stop, who finds joy in the tiniest moments because she knows how fleeting they can be — this version is resilient. She’s soft and strong at the same time. And she deserves love, rest, grace, and compassion — especially from herself.


Fibromyalgia has taken a lot from me, but it’s also taught me to treasure things I never noticed before. A warm cup of tea on a pain-free morning. A hug that doesn’t hurt. A belly laugh I wasn’t expecting. A gentle day when my body doesn’t feel like the enemy.


Those small things still exist — they’re just harder to reach now.


So yes, I miss the small things. And it’s okay to say that out loud. It’s okay to grieve, to feel the weight of what this invisible illness has stolen. But it’s also okay to keep going, slowly and softly, collecting new “small things” along the way — the ones this version of me still gets to hold.


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Flare & Flourish

Because the quietest losses still deserve to be seen.

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