My Fibro Story — How I Got Here

I've been trying to figure out how to start this. I'm not a writer. I'm not a health expert. I'm a 38-year-old woman in Pittsburgh who has been in some level of pain every single day for the last six years.

So I'll just start from where it got real.

When It Started

I was 32 when things stopped making sense. I was tired all the time — not normal tired, but the kind where you sit down to put on your shoes and think "I might need to rest after this." My whole body ached in a way that didn't match anything I was doing. I wasn't working out hard. I wasn't sick. I was just... hurting.

It took almost two years and four doctors to get a diagnosis. Fibromyalgia. I remember the rheumatologist saying it and feeling two things at once: relief that it had a name, and panic that it didn't have a cure.

What Daily Life Looks Like

I have good days and bad days. On good days, I can grocery shop, make dinner, maybe take a short walk with the dog. On bad days, I can't hold a coffee mug without pain shooting through my hands. Brain fog turns simple tasks into puzzles. I forget words. I lose track of conversations. I cancel plans.

The worst part isn't the pain itself — it's the unpredictability. I never know which version of me is going to show up tomorrow. That makes it hard to work, hard to plan, hard to be the person I used to be.

Why We Started Looking Elsewhere

My husband started researching climate data after I had a particularly bad winter. Pittsburgh in January is a nightmare for fibro — gray, damp, cold, with humidity that settles into your bones. I spent most of January and February on the couch, cycling through heating pads and crying from frustration.

He came to me one night with charts and spreadsheets. Humidity data. Temperature data. County comparisons. He said, "What if we moved somewhere that doesn't fight your body every day?"

I thought he was being dramatic. Then I spent a week in Albuquerque visiting his cousin, and I could move. Not perfectly. But I could wake up and my hands worked right away. I could walk for 30 minutes without needing to sit. The pain was still there, but it was quieter.

That trip changed everything. We came home to Pittsburgh and the difference was immediate. Within 48 hours, the aching, the stiffness, the fog — all back to baseline.

Why I'm Writing This

My husband is building this site because he believes the data can help other people make the same kind of decision we're facing. But data without a human face is just numbers. I'm the human face. I'm the reason this project exists.

I'm going to write here when I feel like it — about my symptoms, about what we're learning, about the places we're researching, and about what it's like to consider uprooting your entire life because your body can't handle the weather.

If you're here because you're in pain and you're wondering if a different climate might help — I hear you. I'm asking the same question. Let's figure it out together.

— Kelly