I'm not quite sure how I weaseled my way out of going to church with Mom, but I did. Unfortunately, this didn't exactly help my faith in God. Fortunately, though, it didn't really hurt my faith either. Again, I was just in this weird limbo between God and atheism, though I was comfortable considering myself a Christian. I could probably use whatever sliver of faith I had to get me through driving school, which I dreaded until the first day of class arrived.
Because I was an adult with a learner's permit, I could skip the written tests and just had to do about 6 hours of behind the wheel instruction. Knowing myself, I ended up taking 12 hours of behind the wheel classes just to diminish my anxiety about driving as much as possible, so I could pass my driver's test the first time and hopefully start driving immediately after. Unfortunately, my plan didn't exactly work that way. Sure, I did 12 hours of behind the wheel classes and passed my driver's test with a perfect score, but the anxiety was still very much there. My first car only added fuel to the fire.
I was excited and grateful to have a car. It had belonged to my mom's best friend for 12 years. But, it was an 18 year old car with original everything. Toyota transmissions and engines last forever, but every vehicle needs regular maintenance no matter what. Unfortunately, Mom's friend didn't do all the regular maintenance, so her old Rav4 would sometimes jolt as the gears shifted. It didn't have enough power to go uphill without losing speed even if my foot was literally on the floor. Also, my brakes were bad, so I didn't have the greatest stopping distance, and the pedal itself was dangerously mushy. I definitely had more than my fair share of close-calls, and my driving anxiety only got worse and worse.
As I suffered from anxiety, the doubts began to creep in again. I tried to shake them off. I knew I'd been over the problem of evil and suffering a thousand times. But, they only grew and festered, which shortened my temper and made my life increasingly difficult. I was pissed at God again, because this time, it appeared that He had kicked me out of His house and wasn't willing to have a relationship with me, or compensate me for anything. I knew God wasn't some sort of magical vending machine where if I put good works in, I'd get rewarded with the desires of my heart. But allowing me to suffer a massive anxiety attack at church, when I'd gone there specifically to get closer to God and worship Him with other Christians, seemed totally uncalled for. To me, it was like receiving two massive "fuck you" fingers from the Almighty Himself.
What made things worse was my physical health. I began to notice things going wrong that had never really gone wrong before. At least, nothing that I really noticed before. I'd wake up every night between 2 and 4 AM extremely weak and shaky. I didn't feel better again until after I raided my brother's snack drawer and ate something really sweet and sugary. I didn't like the taste of his really sugary snacks, but it's what I had to do to feel normal again so I could go back to bed. I knew it was a sign that my CFRD was getting worse, only, instead of having trouble with high blood sugar, I only had trouble with very low blood sugar, which meant that taking insulin was probably not the best idea.
Also, my joints were getting to be very tender. In the past, I could feel some tightness and soreness in my joints from time to time. But it was never so bad that it disrupted my daily life until then. As the seasons began to change, my joints were having more problems than ever. It freaked me out, because I had no idea what was wrong with me, and worried it was a sign of some other underlying issue I wasn't aware of and didn't have anything to do with Cystic Fibrosis. I was never told that Cystic Fibrosis could cause Arthritis, so I assumed that being on Ciprofloxacin for a month a couple years before to fight Pseudomonas was to blame, since Cipro was known to cause permanent severe joint damage if taken longer than a couple weeks at a time.
That was my hypothesis anyway, until my joint problems began to interfere with my daily life and fun activities. I went horseback riding with a friend after being out of the saddle for nearly two years. I'd ridden horses a lot over the years and never had any trouble. But, when I clambered into the saddle of a frisky red roan, and followed the trail ride leader through the beautiful prairie grass, I was in constant pain.
Still, I put on a brave face as my ankles tightened up to the point it felt like they were being constricted, and pain shot up from my feet to my shoulders each time I attempted to post with the horse's rough gait. Behind my stoic face, I was in agony. I knew what was I experiencing was not normal, but I had no idea how to address it. So, I just ignored the pain and kept going for two hours straight.
