When the Diagnosis Doesn’t End the Story: Finding Faith, Relief, and Hope Through Fibromyalgia and PCS

Another ER visit.

Another diagnosis.

This time: Pelvic Congestion Syndrome (PCS).

I sat on the crinkly white paper of that hospital bed as the doctor’s voice echoed in my ears. Words like “vein enlargement,” “chronic pain,” and “no cure” blended with the fluorescent buzz of the room. I nodded, but my heart felt like it had dropped through the floor.

I already carry fibromyalgia—a diagnosis that once flipped my world upside down. A chronic condition marked by widespread pain, fatigue, brain fog, and invisible battles that most people can’t see. And now, this?

It took me a few days to process it.

At first, I was scared.

Then angry.

Then…still.

Not because the pain got easier, but because God met me in the middle of the storm—again.

The Weight of Two Diagnoses

Living with fibromyalgia already requires a delicate balancing act. One day I’m functioning at 60%, and that’s considered a good day. The next day, a simple walk or a stressful conversation can spiral me into a flare. I’ve learned to become hyper-aware of my body’s needs—hydration, rest, low-inflammatory foods, and clean living all help me survive the day.

And yet, the pain persists. Now, with PCS in the mix, there’s another layer. PCS brings pelvic pain, pressure, swelling, heaviness—especially after standing or sitting for too long. It feels like your lower abdomen is carrying weights it was never designed to bear.

You’d think the diagnoses would bring closure. Clarity. Answers. But instead, they often bring more questions:

• How do I manage this naturally without making the fibromyalgia worse?

• What foods support vein health without triggering inflammation?

• Is this just how my life is going to be now?

But I’ve learned to stop asking “why me?” and start asking “what now, Lord?”

There’s Pain in the Process

I’m not here to pretend this journey is easy. I’m not here to slap a filter over suffering or offer a three-step “fix.” What I can offer is the raw, unfiltered truth of walking through chronic illness with faith—and the deep belief that pain doesn’t mean purposelessness.

One morning in prayer, I thought of James, one of Jesus’ disciples. He wasn’t healed. Not because Jesus didn’t love him, but because the testimony of enduring faith—of praising God through pain—was more powerful than an instant miracle.

That thought shifted something in me. My goal is no longer just relief—it’s refinement. I don’t want to merely survive my diagnoses; I want to be transformed through them.

And I want to bring you along with me.

The Plan: Lifestyle, Nutrition, and Gentle Perseverance

I don’t claim to have all the answers. But I do believe healing is possible—if not total physical healing, then emotional and spiritual healing that carries you through.

Here’s how I’m walking this road—day by day, moment by moment:

1. Tweaking My Diet (Again)

I’m leaning even more deeply into clean, Whole Foods nutrition—avoiding inflammatory triggers like seed oils, processed sugars, gluten, and artificial additives. I’m focusing on:

• Animal-based proteins that stabilize my energy and support tissue repair

• Beef liver and bone broth for micronutrients and collagen

• Natural anti-inflammatories like turmeric, ginger, and magnesium-rich foods

• Low-histamine meals to manage PCS-related vascular inflammation

Every bite I take is either fighting for or against my body. I’m choosing to fight for it—even when cravings hit or energy dips low.

2. Supplements That Support, Not Overwhelm

It’s easy to go overboard with supplements when you’re desperate for relief. But I’ve learned to simplify. I’m currently experimenting with:

• Diosmin and horse chestnut extract (for vein health and PCS)

• Magnesium glycinate (for muscle relaxation and better sleep)

• Omega-3s (for systemic inflammation)

• Clean, food-based multivitamins that my body can actually absorb

I’ll be sharing what works, what doesn’t, and how my body responds with full honesty—because trial and error is part of this path.

3. Daily Movement Without Overdoing It

Movement is medicine. But with fibro and PCS, too much movement becomes poison. So I’m learning to:

• Take gentle 10-minute walks after meals

• Stretch with intention, not intensity

• Use pelvic floor-friendly exercises to reduce pressure

• Listen when my body says “not today”—and not feel guilty

This isn’t about pushing through pain. It’s about moving with my body instead of against it.

4. A Life That’s Built Around Rest, Not Hustle

Rest isn’t weakness—it’s strategy.

I’m learning to schedule rest with the same priority I once reserved for productivity. Naps. Quiet mornings. Saying “no” without guilt. Choosing peace over pressure.

Living clean isn’t just about food—it’s about margin. It’s about breathing room for your soul.

The Role of Faith: When Healing Doesn’t Look Like a Miracle

If you’ve made it this far, I want you to know something:

Jesus is still my only hope.

Not the supplements.

Not the meal plans.

Not even the progress I might see.

Because sometimes, healing doesn’t look like a miracle—it looks like grace to endure. Strength to keep showing up. Peace that doesn’t make sense.

I’m not putting my faith in protocols—I’m putting my faith in the One who walks with me through the valley. And He’s never failed me.

So, no matter how this unfolds, my praise doesn’t depend on how I feel. My worship won’t wait for a pain-free body. I’ve decided that Jesus is worthy—period.

What You Can Expect from Me Moving Forward

I’m not the girl who sugarcoats suffering.

If you stick around, you’ll see the real, raw, and sometimes messy middle. You’ll watch me adjust protocols, change routines, wrestle with emotions, and cling tighter to Jesus. You’ll see me fall off track and find my way back—again and again.

I’ll be sharing:

• Food experiments and meals that actually help

• Supplement updates and honest reviews

• Gentle movement routines for flare days

• What the Bible is teaching me in the waiting

• The ups, the downs, the setbacks—and the wins

And I hope it encourages you not just to try harder, but to trust deeper.

To the Woman Walking Through Her Own Pain…

I see you. I know the loneliness of invisible illness, the frustration of unanswered prayers, and the fatigue of having to fight for every ounce of strength.

But I also know this:

You are not forgotten. You are not alone. And your pain is not wasted.

Even here—especially here—God is near.

So let’s walk this out together. One step at a time. One choice at a time. One surrendered moment at a time.

Because healing isn’t just a destination. It’s a holy, winding, faith-filled journey.

And I’m inviting you to take it with me.

Want to follow this journey?

Sign up for email updates or follow along on Instagram @thatcurlygirlrachel—where I’ll be sharing every step, flare, breakthrough, and Jesus moment along the way.

You’re not alone, friend. And your story doesn’t end with the diagnosis.

Not even close.