It was another night when I didn't sleep well or much, but I'm not going to complain. I have had a couple of decent nights of sleep this week. I'm thankful for that. One night I even had a good dream. I rarely dream, probably because I rarely get into that REM sleep that allows you to dream. Most of my life I've struggled with sleep. When I was a kid, it was mainly due to asthma. I don't know if there were drugs for asthma back then, but if there were, we most likely couldn't afford it. I was mainly given hot tea to drink, and then because of my mom having to work so much to keep us fed, my Grandma would be the one rubbing Vicks Vapor Rub all over my neck, chest and below my nose. I hated that, but it did help in some way...seemed to open up my sinuses and lungs. When the asthma was at its worst though, I was taken to emergency, and there given oxygen and adrenaline of some kind to open up my lungs. Sometimes I'd have to stay for a week. My grandmother on my Dad's side died from being treated for asthma, so he was the most scared when I dealt with asthma. I kind of got used to it. I still have severe asthma, but it's more controlled now. Thank God for that, or it'd one more thing to keep me awake. Dealing with fibro is enough. :-)
I don't remember having many dreams as a kid either. I remember a few nightmares though. A recurring one at age six was about a ghost. I'd dream that Mom told me to hang some laundry out on the clothes line in the evening when it was dark. Every time I'd try to pin a piece of clothing to the line, a ghost would bite one of my fingers. After the ghost bit 3 fingers, I'd cry and run down the street a couple of blocks until I was at the gas station where my dad worked. I'd jump up on him and he'd hold me, and then I'd feel safe again. I had that dream three nights in a row. I'm assuming it came out of being afraid of the dark and/or ghosts, but I can't remember what brought it on. Another dream I had multiple times around the age seven was me falling off a bridge. A few times when this happened, I'd wake up on the floor, having fallen out of bed. The nightmares got worse later in life.
When I was eight, I was sexually abused by my Uncle Billy who was just seven years older than me; and for many years, raised like my brother. Though that abuse ended when my family found out, I wasn't talked to about it and the nightmares from it lasted for more than a year. I'd dream I was floating in space all by myself and couldn't get back home. I was afraid and felt very alone. It got to the point that I would try to avoid sleeping so I wouldn't go into this dream.
When I was ten, as I walked with my two younger brothers down the street one day, a drunk driver drove up onto the sidewalk. I was able to pull my two-year-old brother, Allen, out of the way, but couldn't get to my six-year-old brother, Kenny. He was a few steps behind me. I remember seeing his head crushed in from the tire. He died less than six hours later. The recurring nightmare from that day followed me into adulthood. I questioned what I could have done to keep Kenny alive...maybe walked down a different road, not let him walk behind me, etc. The guilt added to the trauma of the accident. The police found the drunk driver painting his car, and he was found guilty of man slaughter. His sentence was to pay my mother $35 each month for 3 years, meaning the court only valued my brother's life at $1,260.00. Even at just 10-years-old, that made me angry; but as with all my emotions then, I kept it to myself. I didn't talk to anyone about anything related to Kenny's death until I was around 30 years old.
At 16, I was raped by knife point. I didn't tell anyone and again blamed myself for not being smart enough to avoid it. It brought on more nightmares. Before this, I wanted to be an artist, but that dream died too. After it, I also began to disobey my parents more. I'd ask to do something, but when told "no", I'd do it anyway. That meant I'd get a beating from my stepdad, but I didn't care. I didn't cry when he hit me either, no matter how much it hurt. Before my 16th year ended, my mom kicked me out...telling me to move to my dad's in another state. That went OK for a while, but then one day I left his house to go to school and just never went back home. I either stayed with friends, a family I'd just met, or just walked up and down the streets (sometimes the police would offer me a ride to somewhere safe to get me off the streets :-). Not sure why I left Dad's though...he didn't do anything to cause it. I wasn't into drinking, drugs or sleeping around either. I was alone most of the time...just numb. It was kind of like I was walking through life dead. I was on the inside.
There was more to life before and after those times though...good and bad. It wasn't till I was around 30 though when I made my first real friend. It was a time when I was drinking too much. For some reason though, when I met Len, I trusted him more than I did others. I realize now it's because God was in his heart, and He showed through. Even with Len, I was still closed up in areas, but he talked with me about the Lord and that changed me. I accepted His son, Jesus, into my own life; and with time, my heart became more open to others too. Because God filled that emotional hole in me, I finally had something to give. I now have a great relationship with my husband, Marty, and a few exceptionally good friends. An added bonus is that my nightmares were taken away too. The past no longer has a hold on me. Occasionally, assuming I sleep, I might still have nightmare, but now it's not related to any trauma, it's just bad pizza. :-)
Most experts believe that fibromyalgia is linked to stress, illness and trauma. As you read above, my life had all of them, so no real surprise that fibro chose me (I'm such a lucky girl :-). I made the trauma worse though by shutting down emotionally. Maybe as a child, teen and young adult, I didn't know any better...wasn't equipped to deal with life's setbacks. Now I am though. I have the Lord, my husband, family and good friends to help me through them; and when you look past the fibro symptoms, you can see that I'm no longer the sad, tortured little girl that grew up feeling alone. Most days I'm happy.
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