Let's talk Flare ups!!!

Let’s talk flare-ups. Those surprise party crashers of the chronic illness world, except there’s no party, just me in a pile of heat pads, and the surprise is mostly pain. I get asked about them a lot, so buckle up, because we’re going full throttle into fibromyalgia and CRPS territory. Bring snacks. And maybe a helmet.

🔥 Flare-Up Type One: The Fibro Fiesta

Fibromyalgia is like your nervous system drinking three espressos and then deciding to feel everything. When I have a flare, it’s like my whole body files a group complaint. My personal triggers? Smells. Yep, I could be strolling behind someone puffing away on a cigarette and bam! Instant migraine-to-misery pipeline.

Hairspray? Body spray? I basically have to banish my poor wife to the “aerosol exile” bathroom to spritz anything. She sprays, shuts the door, and then waits out the chemical fallout like it’s a radioactive zone. Romantic, isnt it?

The aftermath of a fibro flare? Think of the flu, but all your bones feel like they’ve been hollowed out by tiny gremlins with spoons. My face hurts. My legs ache. Even my eyebrows feel emotionally exhausted. Bonus points if I’ve overtrained, or if it's that time of the month, because, naturally, hormones love to join the chaos.

Oh, and yes, I have literally fallen asleep mid-training. Just dropped off like a narcoleptic hamster on a wheel!

🔥 Flare-Up Type Two: The CRPS Carnival of Chaos

Now CRPS (Complex Regional Pain Syndrome) is another beast entirely. And by beast, I mean it sits top of the McGill Pain Index. Like, gold-medal level pain. More painful than childbirth. Or amputation. Or, apparently, a slip disc, which I also had but barely noticed thanks to the CRPS stealing the spotlight.

CRPS flares don’t come with warning lights. They just hit like a truck made of fire. The pain is so intense it feels like someone’s shoving my leg into a 500-degree oven and locking the door. No escape. No remote. Just roast human.

Sugar is one trigger...go figure, my redundant bowel (yes, it’s as dramatic as it sounds) doesn’t work unless I take a colonoscopy-level purge every three days. Which sounds glamorous until you realize that after taking it, I spend the day wishing someone would sedate me with a mallet.

Other triggers? Stress. Hormones. Air molecules existing. CRPS is like that unpredictable friend who cancels plans but still shows up at your house uninvited.

🪓 Bonus Round: Nerve Pain & Other Joys

The nerve pain that tags along feels like someone is stabbing me with a large, vengeful knife, and twisting it for good measure. It’s a different type of pain, because why have one pain flavor when you can have the whole tasting menu?

Oh, and let’s not forget proctalgia fugax (aka: "pain in the a***"). Sounds like a joke, it isn’t. It’s as if CRPS called in backup. That one usually visits me at night, because apparently my body thinks it’s fun to be haunted. It doesn’t last long, but long enough for me to consider becoming a ghost myself.

🚀 How I Deal (Or Try To)

I train through it when I can. Yes, sometimes that means doing laps while actively flaring. My logic? If I’m going to suffer, I might as well do it in motion. Lying down just makes it feel worse, and if mid training... invites awkward conversations from strangers who think I’m in the middle of a dramatic performance piece called “Why Is She Rocking on the Floor?”

Do I like being the centre of attention? Absolutely not. I’d rather blend into the background. So I keep going. I keep wheeling. I keep training. I keep hiding it when I can.

Because honestly? Stopping hurts more.

💬 Final Thoughts

Flare-ups are unpredictable, unbearable, and unbelievably real. But they're also mine to navigate. Some days I crush training. Some days I fall asleep in it. Some days I feel like my body is a haunted house with faulty wiring, but I’ve learned to keep going, one spin of the wheel at a time.