Fight or Flight Response & Worn Out Blankies

A more recent theory regarding Fibromyalgia is that the affected person's fight-or-flight response mechanism, which is only meant for short term sporadic use to get us out of a sticky situation, gets turned permanently on. This perma-on status leads to deplenished levels of various brain chemicals which are just a tad important to say the least. Researchers try to associate this to a traumatic event which could have triggered such an episode. For me, it was probably a lifetime of abusive relationships & being threatened, assaulted, and so on.

Back in my youth I had thought of myself as strong, able to handle anything & more than willing to put a cad or jerk in his place if he dared to mess with a friend of mine. I felt fairly invinsible. Even though I wanted to die inside & often would drink in excess then attempt to go swimming or wander out to the middle of the road to "look at the pretty lights" not the healthiest pass time one could engage in. Despite it all, I survived, just to further endure more negativity. Once I finally became so crippled with Fibromyalgia that I could hardly walk any longer, while concurrently coming down with migraines with the prodromol effect of blindness & being a single mother to 2 preschoolers, I could no longer fight my way out of situations.

Enter the era of the beloved blankie! My bed, for some reason had always felt like a safe haven for me. A soft, comforting, warm, snugly area to either curl up in a ball & cry into my pillow, beg for an end to it all, or stretch out in comfort. Even though one night I woke up in pitch blackness with the ominous feeling of someone watching me, only to make out the outline of a figure in my room right before he lunged on top of me covering my mouth with his hand. Still, I managed to maintain a feeling of security in my bed, just not my home! I won't go into the post-traumatic stress disorder I suffered from for years or how it still effects which seat or table I choose at a restaurant or other such place, we'll save that for another time or not at all.

Apparently when I have no way to fight & no where to run away to- my bed is my escape from it all. Pulling a "chicken little" or ostrich syndrome with head buried under covers, just allowing a small viewing area to the world beyond my pillow as I try to convince myself that the sky isn't really falling. Sometimes Xanax can be a great help in moderating this debate within my mind.

Over the years I've become more sensitive to sound, additionally I worry to no end about kids, bills, marriage, various other things too trivial & bizarre to mention, but the cure is still the same-my bed. Sometimes I wish my view from my bed to the window was filled with more light or less, I think of projects I'd do if only, if only I could feel free enough to get out of bed. Mind you when I hear a strange sound, my husband has deemed all my "strange sounds that I hear" as "fly farts in Mexico" I am the one to lunge forward & go on patrol through the house & look about outside. When nothing is found I regret the time lost from my bed & return to it, re-establishing the comfort process with pillows being just so & so on. Being a tad paranoid, I thought there was something wrong with me having this obsession with my bed, but I've found out differently.

This is just a version of the fight or flight response turned permanently on in us quirky Fibromyalgia patients. I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or not, but at least I understand it a little better! I also have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.

Despite my love affair with my bed, blankets, pillows & so on, I normally awaken feeling like I've been beaten by baseball bats from avid pinata seekers. I am not full of candy dang it, I'm just "festively plump"!!!

Till next time Dear Readers, I wish you perfect pillows, soft blankets, a comforter of perfect weight, size & texture, earplugs if you wish, an eye mask if you like & anything else necessary to comfort you. Be Blessed & sleep well.