The day started with my usual morning walk around the neighborhood with the puppies. As we are turning the corner off the busy street and into the residential area 2 HUGE porcupine-meet-warthog-meet-armadillo looking spiky hunched-over things the size of over-grown HOGS come tearing around the corner at top speed right past us. The Yorkie yo-yo's out to the end of his retractable leash, pouncing and barking to protect his mom and sister as I struggle to reel him in, imagining his precious life snapped up in an instant by what I have since learned are called Javelina's. But they were around the corner and out of sight before I could barely react, thank God! I kept walking and about 3 houses down spot ANOTHER one rootin' around in someones front yard. Being such a city girl this whole encounter was a bit of a surrealistic vision. I immediately whipped out my pepper spray in mother-bear instinct, shot it downwind to make sure it still worked and took up residence right in the middle of the street. My thought process was that one of these nasty creatures could not pop out of the brush and snatch up a puppy the further away I was from the bushes. I start hollarin' LU-LU-LU-LU-LU at the top of my lungs, head rolling around like Linda Blair to make sure nothing was sneaking up on us from behind. I continue this parade the entire rest of the walk, trigger finger ready to spray, barely pausing to let the dogs do their business, heart beating out of my chest, feeling completely vulnerable and wishing I had paid more attention to Bear Grylls' lessons on surviving the wild, the paved-tract-home wild I was racing through! We made it home without further incident but the adrenaline rush and fear totally exhausted me.
It was great to be back at work and see so many friendly and familiar faces, yet I got so speedy on the steroids I could hardly hold my plate at lunch, dropping food all over the buffet as I was trying to serve myself I was shaking so bad! It was a totally embarrassing reminder that I am so far away from normal Leah, and I then had to space out on muscle-relaxers to get myself under control, which in conjunction with the steroids make me stupid and hardly able to form cohesive sentences. I just hope no one was that focused on me and am still counting on my well-established reputation to get me through yet another health crisis without anyone realizing what a hot mess I am! I left the meeting and raced to the dentist for a teeth cleaning (no news is good news there- if you grind, wear your night guard!) and by the time I got home was in such a Fibromyalgia-fog-fatigue the thought of having to get up and go to night class was the last thing I had energy for. I rested for an hour and made it to class...barely...not realizing my gas tank was below empty and shifting into neutral as I coasted to every red light, turning off my air conditioner in the sweltering 108 degrees. As I am sitting in a class way below my level, intimidated to even say "Buenas tardes, como esta?", I get the brilliant idea that my husband could come get the truck and fill it up and leave me the car so I text him to do so...20 minutes later realizing I don't have the car keys with me, just the ones for the truck on "E". Luckily he had just arrived so I popped out of class and took his keys and settled that one without incident. But at some point during all this, as I am sitting in a Spanish class far easier than the 1 I took last semester and aced, I got really sad.
I have been existing in my imaginary dream-land, blogging to other Fibromyalgia-sufferers that completely understand my struggles and challenges and surrounding myself in this cocoon of acceptance and positive thinking that has nothing to do with actually surviving life in the outside world. Yesterday was a harsh wake-up call. It made me so mad. I felt the acute pain and disappointment of all the compromises I am settling on, trying to guise them under the title of realistic. I felt the sorrow and loss and confusion that I usually force myself to Positive-Polly spin into a portrait of peaceful acceptance, surrendering to my higher power and absolute faith in the perfect unknown path right before me. But last night it all came crashing down around me. My stomach is bloated beyond belief, my face fat and round (guess that's why they call 'em "chipmunk cheeks") from the steroids and my mood morose and angry. I don't wanna be a stroke survivor at 34! I don't wanna have to come back from yet another debilitating health crisis! I don't want to have to take out loans to pay my medical bills and cover my income while I cannot work. I don't want to be on this ship anymore! I want to get off...but there is no land anywhere around and either I keep hangin' on, swell after swell tossing and throwing me all over the deck, or jump out and sink because there is nowhere else to swim to.
Thanks for joining,
Leah
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