Two weeks ago, I was pulled over. I was on my way to meet a friend for coffee at a Panera Bread about an hour from my house. I had noticed a black SUV behind me a couple of times as I drove down the four-lane artery that leads from my small town to the big city. I was just approaching the strip mall area anchored by a Best Buy when I saw red and blue lights swirling on the black vehicle behind me.
Immediately, my heart began to race. It was obvious that the lights were for me, but I couldn’t figure out why. At the light, I went into the left lane and turned on cue, pulling into the back lot behind Best Buy. As I turned off the motor, I noticed a lone car that was parked contained a man who was now staring at me. The police car pulled behind me. I sat massaging my left shoulder- waiting, feeling pretty confused and anxious.
The officer strolled to my window bending down to peer in at me. “Hello, mam. I pulled you over because you were swerving in your lane a bit. It wasn’t bad, but I felt I needed to check that you were okay to drive. You crossed over the yellow line a couple of times.” He went on to explain that he was checking to see if I was “under the influence”, and as I reached into the glove box to find my registration and insurance (Why oh why do I have this thing crammed full of pain relievers, lotion, eye drops, cough drops, ect.?), he concludes that I am not.
I go on to say, “I have fibromyalgia.” WHAT?! That’s the first reason that I come up with because I have no idea why I was swerving in my lane. He asks if it impairs my driving. I explain that I can be a bit distracted and that I had been massaging my neck and jaw while I drove. He clarified, as if in apology, that my driving wasn’t too bad, just enough that he felt he should be sure. I thanked him by saying, “This will remind me to be more aware and focused as I drive.” He wished me well and asked if I knew how to get to Panera.
Rolling up the window, watching the officer back up and pull away, I turn to where the car had been parked next to me. It was gone. I hadn’t noticed it leaving. I felt like crying. My heart was still racing. I sat there a breathed, slowly counting in four and out six for several minutes. Pulling myself together, I headed for my coffee date, making sure to get a calming cup of tea instead.
I haven’t written a blog post for three weeks. I don’t have a set schedule, but I would like to write one at least once a week. I actually have several ideas that I’ve collected over this dry spell. I’ve sat to write quite a few times, but each time it felt that my brain was full of sludge and that I just couldn’t get the words out. So, none did.
While I’m going about my day fairly normally since getting off from Cymbalta, my mornings and evenings have been more painfilled and stiff with a bit of dizziness and headache. (This article shows pretty much all of the symptoms I’m having.) I’m off all prescription drugs (except for Vyvanse for ADD) by choice. I’m in a constant tug-of-war within on whether I’m just trying to be strong by not take the help that Cymbalta brought or the consequences of prescription drugs are worse than the Fibro symptoms. I’m determined to give myself a year’s time to see how I’m functioning and then re-evaluate. There are times, like yesterday, when I bowed out of my yoga class, that I’m not sure I’m strong enough.
I really had thought that if I went through the Fibro program at Mary Free Bed, got centered with meditation, breathwork, and yoga, and ate healthily, the Fibro issues would subside or sink into ignored corners of my life. However, they seem to be more like that glaring red and blue light swirling around me all of the time, reminding me that every aspect of me is affected.
Thank you for visiting my blog today.
I am committing to posting once a week on Fridays. However, as you know,
my new normal means that some times I have to listen to my body and am
not able to follow through as planned. Thank you for your understanding.
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