An Open Letter to Those With Whom I Share the Road

Dear Ms. Soccer Mom:

Yes, you have an SUV. Yes, it is big. Yes, it is shiney. No, it does NOT mean you own the whole farking road. Tough darn titties, but I am NOT going to allow you to barge in front of me. Get a life. And a fuel-efficient sedan. And get the fuck off the cell phone.

Dear Mr. Illegal Wetback Immigrant:

A) You don't belong here.
B) Go back where you came from
C) Go to a driving school when you get there.
D) This isn't Tiajuana - we have rules of the road here. Learn them before you apply to come back legally.

Dear Mr. Over-the-Road 18-wheeler Driver:

I don't care how much you pay in taxes, you still don't own the fucking road. Don't bother honking the millisecond the light turns green. I MIGHT could get so rattled that I stall the car from popping the clutch. Oopsie.

And that road construction? Well, you're about 8 feet above me, you probably could see the right lane was closed about a mile further away than I could. Too bad you didn't get to the left sooner. No, I am not going to sit still and wait for you to get in front of me. Deal with it.


I hate people. I need to be a hermit. I really do.

Ramblings

I used a word yesterday that I absolutely never use. I called someone a retard.

I'm sitting in the parkinglot of Taco Bell, rummaging through my purse to find my cash before I hit the drive-thru. There's plenty of room to go around me, and at least 5 people already did. This brain-dead poster child for retroactive abortion in an Audi pulls up behind me and proceeds to honk her horn repeatedly for me to move.

Apparently owning an Audi makes you stupid. I motioned her around me, flipped her off, and asked her if she was a retard, loud enough for her to hear through her fully-automated sun-roof.

This is abnormal behavior. I never call anyone that. My appologies to Rick and Sheryl, wherever you are. Rick used to work with Terry at Deane, and they had a son who was born so badly brain-damaged that I suspect to this day he doesn't walk. Nice kid. Nice parents. Sad, sad situation.

The cats have managed to tick me off to an extent I hadn't dreamed possible. There has been a stack of "I need to deal with this" boxes under the stairs for months. Yesterday as I was about to run out the door to work, they decided to topple it all over. The livingroom is a wreck. The cats are now afraid of me. This is good.

So they pick my name in the bi-monthly random drug screen. *shrug* I wonder if they will call me to tell me I'm testing positive for my heart meds, or whether I'll just get shitcanned for being an anti-hypertension addict.

Last nite was tense. Bad indigestion. I suspect I need to buy new margarine. That stuff really made me uncomfortable. Maybe I should just stop eating.

I've lost my energy for quilting. I wish I could find it back. Maybe over the weekend. The few squares I sewed together at the picnic for the "Ice Cream & Sherbet" quilt (an Irish Chain variation) looked nice together, but I didn't get back to it. Hand-sewing just isn't appealing right now. Besides, I got a TERRIBLE cramp in my wrist from what I did do that day. I'm thinking I need to go at it a bit less aggressively.

Ok, off I go. Behave yourselves.

Paranoia? Or Hypochondria? Or could it be....

All this recent focus on my inner and outter health is beginning to sound like my (fortunately) dead ex-mother-in-law. I appologize to the Gentle Reader for the overabundance of angst - but it's MY blog, and so there... phlllhhhhbbbbhhhtttttttttttt

So I'm at the grocery getting lunch. They have these awesome roast beef on focaccia bread sandwiches, and I can get an orange juice instead of sodapop...

And I am at the checkout and see a "women's magazine" (Definition: 30 pages of "Diet Advice" interspersed with 20 pages of "Sex Life Advice" and 40 pages of the most calorie-fat-and-sugar laced recipies known to humankind) but there is an article in there, allegedly, about Altzheimers, and considering Mom....

So I buy the stupid rag along with my lunch (now also supplimented with ranch-flavored Doritos and a small strawberry-shortcake concoction).

Well, in among the Altzheimer article, various sex advice, diet advice, and fattening recipies there is also an article about a woman who had MVPS = Mitral Valve Prolapse Syndrome. And a lot of her symptoms sounded eerily familiar.

So I went out looking for more info. All of the symptoms sound eerily familiar. The racing heartbeat, the thudding, the fear, the ... well.....

So now I'm at a quandry. Did they check for this when I was in the hospital last? Hmmm Dunno. Can I ask them? Hell no. I still owe them cash. Hmmm.

Ok, the article says that some lifestyle changes can have a positive effect. Eat oatmeal. Consume magnesium. Go for a walk.... Hmmm.... I could try this.....

I still want to go see Dr. Epperly - but if THIS is what is wrong, and not that I'm going insane (Shaddup, Vio), this would be farking wonderful. I mean... this can be treated - insanity, I'm not so sure!

*wanders off for a bowl of oatmeal*

More Deep Thoughts

Woke up this morning with a pain in the gut. Felt like I was just utterly starving. With the latest bit of insight, however, I tried to analyze. I'd had a nice large dinner, there was no real reason for me to have stabbing hunger pangs.

Yet, I was afraid. I cannot find a few things I need, and it's sending waves of panic thru me. I awoke in fear, and that fear was centered in my gut. Hell, I could rub my chest/abdomen and FEEL the pain... Dammit - can it be that my whole life I've THOUGHT that I was hungry, but really was trying to turn off the pains caused by the fear?

This is a lot bigger than I know how to handle.

I slso kind of came to a conclusion that I'm a fucking hell of a lot stronger than I even thought. I've been living with this for at LEAST 44 years. I've done some reading about anxiety and panic attacks and have read some blog/message forums by people who have it (diagnosed). Some of them have had only a few years, and yet are on the verge of total mental collapse. Many of them are agorophobic (sp?), unable to even leave home to get help.

I had the strength and determination to leave Terry. I had the strength and determination to quit smoking. Where can I go to find the determination and strength to beat through this?

Dammit... I am afraid.

Deep Thoughts?

Someone has been hassling me. Giving me the old "You only see the glass 1/2 empty" bullshit. Claiming my life is all about negativity. All my life, from Mom to my boss, everyone jumps on this fucking bandwagon. Why does nobody understand, it's not anger, it's not negativity? It's all about fear.

They say that cornered wild animals have a "fight or flight" response, an innate, instinctual response to fear stimulus. Do you run, or do you fight? What if you can do neither?

So frightened, so long. I remember a few, a very few, times when it wasn't like this. Kindergarten in the basement of the church, before we moved to the scarey big school with all the big kids.... Baking with Grandma....

But mostly what I remember is fear. Fear of not being "good enough". Fear of disappointing the parents. Fear of saying the wrong thing and being laughed at, or being given a ration of shit from an adult. Fear of having a teacher reprimand me, or even worse, bring attention to me.

I remember fear every time I brought home the report card. Fear whenever I did something "naughty" - and often when I had not. Scared of God - of Jesus and his retribution to sinners. Scared of Hell, and the fire/brimstone/wailing/gnashing of teeth of Revelation's end-times. Scared even now when I've renounced Christianity due to it's hypocritical teachings.

I remember being terrified of store clerks. Of having almost panic attacks from having to ask for help finding something. Better to leave without than to be ridiculed and thought stupid for having asked such an obvious question. Even now I am afraid to ask - but force myself to be jocular and over-compensatorily cheerful.

How is this learned? This innate fear? Babies aren't born with it. Babies are supremely confident that all they need do is smile or wail and the world will bring them whatever they desire. Maybe the months in the orphanage started things?

I remember being hideously, painfully shy. So's my dad, but you really have to know him to know it. Can it be that the fear from him produced pheromones that my infant/toddler/child self picked up on and learned this behavior from?

If my boss calls me into his office, I have a panic attack. I just "Know" that I'm about to be chewed out or fired. I'm so afraid I can barely walk, but I grab a pad and pen (to keep my hands from shaking) and go in.

It's getting worse.

Dammit, I need to find someplace - someone - to help. I don't have a clue who/where.

I think I've figured out my heart problems, however. The technicians could not find any pathological reason for my irregular heartbeat, high blood pressure and enlarged heart. I think I know. I think the constant, grinding, insatiable anxiety produces a damn-near constant "fight or flight" response... and it's killing me.

I don't know where to go.

I am afraid.

In a Hurry

Got to run to work
Hope to hell this works.

Iroc's Puzzle is finished (for my part).

I Hate Filing

Oh, I'll do it, but I really hate it. I don't mind the alphabetizing bit, but why the hell do filing cabinet manufacturers make bottom drawers? I'm too old and my knees just don't want to deal with those anymore.

I get down ok, but.... some days I wonder if I'm gonna just end up stuck down there, permanently. "Hey, Mouse - file this while you're down there, mkay?"

On a happier note - By the end of this week, I should have a picture to post up of the top of "Iroc's Puzzle". Yesterday I finished making all the small squares, and spent an hour or so fiddling with them for placement. Tonite I'll put the strips together and finish all but the outter borders, I suppose. Then I want to get the borders on quickly so I can finish Leandra's son's quilt top (2 squares left to do...) and hopefully get the whole lot into the mail by next weekend or earlier.

Earlier would be awesome.

I got a new coffeemaker this weekend. The old one finally breathed it's last. Orthodox funeral, full rites observed. The new one has a brew-strength feature, and has an ANALOG clock, of all things!! How amazing. Bright green light-up clock thingy on the nose of it. But the coffee it makes is pretty good - especially since I got a PuR filter for the faucet, and now have chlorine-free water to make the coffee with. (Our local water is like drinking out of a swimming pool some days!)

I guess I'm easily amused.

A Full Tummy is a Happy Tummy

Went to the pharmacy in Costco last nite and got refills on all the meds. Yay for my Dr. Boo for my insurance!

So of course, it is Costco, and I simply must go and get a big bag of "Tyson's Jumbo Wings o' Fire" - for those unacquainted, these are, without question, the best damn hot chicken wings I've ever had, bar none. The sauce has an unmistakable tang of jalapeno, and they're all the "drumette" part of the wings, none of those slimy, slidy little spaceship-shaped bits. They're big and meaty and just wonderful.

Also got a large "party platter" of fake sushi. (fully cooked - so it's not REAL sushi). Ok, not exactly a "health food" evening, but..mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm good!

Too hot upstairs to play around on the computer, however. It cools down nice at night, but it's been miserable hot and humid during the sunlit hours. Last nite I just fell asleep on the sofa watching Pirates of the Caribbean.

Hopefully tonight I can get into some more WoW gaming and maybe even... *gasp* do some laundry... *grin*

The lady from the Credit Union is ... too perky. I just wanted information,not a propaganda demonstration. I will probably join up if only to have a savings account again since banks are horrible things for those of late. Also might could help if I ever decide to try and get a loan to finance remodelling the upstairs bathroom.

Hmmm
Speaking of banks, I should call and make an appt. to go talk about my IRA....

Damnit - being a grownup has too many things to think about.

Hot Flashes?

Or is it too much caffeine?

I took my meds today, so it shouldn't be that.

It's suddenly SO hot in this air-conditioned office. My face is wet with "glow" (horses sweat, men perspire, women "glow"). I feel light-headed and really want to pass out badly. No chest pains.

I wish our insurance was worth the paper it's written on - I'd like to see a Dr., but I'm afraid to even TRY to work thru that insurance company. Too much red tape.

Shrub-boy is here in Illinois. Damn shame that grenade didn't detonate a few weeks ago. Gas is over $2.50 a gallon, and the republicans here are complaining. I laugh and tell them "you voted it in - you deal with it!"

I'm grumpy. No appetite. I think I'm sick.
bleh.

Happiness is Small Things

Dad called last nite. It was nice to talk to him, but dealing with Mom is getting him down. It tells in his voice.

I'm almost 1/2 done with piecing the Iroc's Puzzle quilt top. I should be further along, but I'm not. *shrug*

Tom made Jason give me ALL of the A/P backlog stuff. FINALLY. Now I have a ton of work to do, but I do at least have the wherewithall to do it. Without the proper tools, one cannot do a quality job.

I weeded in the garden some. The weeds are grand and glorious - the deliberate plants are looking peaked. Drought favors weeds, I guess. At least the tomato plant is flourishing. The daisies look good - I suspect they will come back in a big way next year, which is a happy thought.

Lea is happy, I sent her that stupid NwN temple I built then had to re-build because everyone involved had deleted it from their hard-drives. I told her this is the last version, and I'm deleting it tonite!

I went to Omega for lunch/dinner last nite too. It was lovely. Nice roast beef sandwich and chicken soup. Hot food without having to cook it, served in air-conditioned comfort! I just wish the servers wouldn't rush ya thru your meal so much!

Well, off to iron more lil' pieces of fabric, then work. Maybe I can find some more small happinesses today. I want to look for them. I think I'm tired of anxiety.

Now if I can just figure out how to lose it!