Friday, November 25, 2011

It reminds me that it's not so bad, It's not so bad.

In honor of Thanksgiving...the obligatory "things I'm thankful for" post.

So, here's what I'm thankful for, in no particular order. The things that make it "not so bad." And it's certainly not a complete list by any means. But I'm nearly in a food coma, so I'm lucky to be posting anything.
  • My often hilarious and always amazing family.
  • My equally hilarious and equally amazing friends.
  • Josh.
  • My awesome furry children, Chuck & Trixie.

  • Music. It makes life bearable.
  • Books. Actual, printed books. I just don't get the same feeling holding an e-reader.
  • Sleep. I wish I got more of it.
  • Cheap wine. Xanax. Marijuana. Judge if you like. I care not.
  • 5 days off from work. Fuck yeah.
  • That I was able to clean and save the leopard flats I thought were ruined. Yay!

  • The awesome food my mom made today, and the amazing pie my sister made. But holy shit I'm still full. I may not eat again until Saturday. Which reminds me that I am also thankful for Gas-X.
  • Cozy PJs.
  • My couch.
  • Clorox wipes. They're pretty much good for everything.
  • DVR.
  • Photographs. They are tangible memories.
  • Lazy Sunday mornings.
  • Anything that makes me laugh. If I didn't laugh I'd probably go quietly insane.
  • My punching bag. 
  • Earphones. I can block out anything when I'm commuting. That obnoxious screaming kid running up and down the aisle? No match for Social Distortion in my ears.
  • Silly internet games that keep my racing mind occupied.
  • Technology. I love that my mom texts now. 
  • Family Guy. 
  • The fact that I can end this post any time I like. And that time is now, because my brain is tired.

I love this song. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Get out of my dreams...

Screw you anxiety. Stop following me into my damn dreams.

I had a job interview yesterday. It was actually a second interview; the first one was Monday. Yeah it's been a looong week. Anyway, the night before, I wasn't really nervous because I'm so used to interviewing by now I could do it with my eyes closed. Evidently my subconscious felt differently.

By the way, I just found this on Facebook and thought it to be eerily appropriate for this post:

So in my dream I'm on the train and I'm wearing jeans & a hoodie, which is what I had worn that day. All of a sudden I realize it's Friday and I have a job interview and I'm not dressed for it and what the FUCK am I going to do since I'm already on the train?? I remember trying to figure out if I could possibly get off at the next stop, go back to Matawan, drive home, change, start over and still make it in time. Funny, but not once did it occur to me that I was supposed to be at WORK, because the interview was to take place during my lunch.
I woke up freaking the hell out and already on the edge of an anxiety attack. By the time my fuzzy brain actually processed the fact that I was still in bed and the interview hadn't yet happened, my heart was beating a mile a minute. Got out of bed, got a cold drink and had a cigarette, and generally walked it off by wandering the apartment. Luckily I was eventually able to fall back into a (thankfully) uneventful sleep.

But dammit, it was irritating.

Go ahead and rock out to this song. You know you want to.
Billy Ocean - Get Out of My Dreams

Sunday, November 6, 2011

I don’t even know what I’m doing in an hour...

1. Have you ever licked the back of a CD to try to get it to work?
No...did people actually do this?
2. What’s the largest age difference between yourself and someone you’ve dated?
4 years. He was older and I was a little liar.
3. Ever been in a car wreck?
Several, thank you.
4. Were you popular in high school?
Nah. And I was ok with that.
5. Have you ever been on a blind date?
Once. Never again.

6. Are looks important?
To an extent, yes.
7. Do you have any friends that you’ve known for 10 years or more?
Yes I do.
8. By what age would you like to be married?
Well, since I'm getting married next year and I'm 36...I'm gonna say 36.
9. Does the number of people a person’s slept with affect your view of them?
Nope, you can be as slutty as you want. I don’t care.
10. Have you ever made a mistake?
No, never. I am perfect. Duh.
11. Are you a good tipper?
Yes. Even if I didn't want to be, I'd have to be. My sister was a waitress for years, and drilled it into my head.
12. What’s the most you have spent for a haircut?
13. Have you ever had a crush on a teacher?
Once I think. Maybe in middle school.
14. Have you ever peed in public?
Yes indeed. Not like in front of a bunch of people...but outside in public, yes.
15. What song do you want played at your funeral?
 Ave Maria. For whatever reason, this song has always affected me like no other piece of music.

16. Would you tell your parents if you were gay?
Of course. I'd tell everyone.
17. What would your last meal be before getting executed?
First off…what the hell did I do to deserve to be executed?
18. Beatles or Stones?
19. If you had to pick one person on earth to die, who would it be?
Oooooh I see, THIS is what I did get to executed.
20. Beer, wine or hard liquor?
Beer and rum.
21. Do you have any phobias?
Clowns are evil. This clown in particular. Thanks Poltergeist.

22. What are your plans for the future?
I don’t even know what I’m doing in an hour…

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Breathe with me...

I have Generalized Anxiety Disorder. Which as far as I'm concerned is just a fancy way of saying that I worry excessively over everything. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I live in a constant state of anxiety (although sometimes it feels that way). But when something makes me "anxious," it fucks me up pretty good for a while. And that right there is (part of) why I NEED to get out of this fucking city and start having a better quality of life.

Below is a pic of my newest tattoo (keep in mind this pic was taken the day it was done, so it's still healing & shiny). There is always a reason behind every tattoo I get, and this one is no different.

(Tattoo by Rick Schreck @ House of 1000 Tattoos, Middlesex, NJ)

When I first told my artist what I wanted done, he was disappointed because he's used to me coming in and wanting big pieces. And there was of course some joking in the vein of "doesn't your subconscious kind of take care of that for you?" You would think so, wouldn't you? Unfortunately for me, it doesn't always. When I get stressed to the breaking point (which happens more often than you'd think), I find myself holding my breath and clenching my teeth, and I actually have to remind myself to BREATHE. So the logic is that seeing the word on my wrist every day will help me to remember to breathe, to slow down, to calm down.

I've had the tattoo for less than a month, so I'm still researching whether or not it works. However - and this is off the subject, but it's my blog so I don't care - the minute the needle touched my skin that day, I felt everything in my body relax, and all of the tension left my muscles in a big rush. I'm sure that sounds weird to anyone who doesn't have tattoos, and maybe to some who do.
But when I call it "tattoo therapy," I mean it.
I don't do the traditional therapy thing. I've tried, but I can't do it. I cannot sit there in a room where I'm not even allowed to have a cigarette and tell some stranger what I'm feeling and why. No thank you. I know it works for some people, and more power to you if it does. It's just not for me.

And then there's a whole other aspect of the anxiety thing...
An example: I have to drop my Chuckles off at the vet on Tuesday morning for an ultrasound (that's a whole other post - I can't get into it right now or I will cry). The very thought of leaving him there brings on an anxiety attack. That's when I feel that tightness in my chest, that tightness that feels like a bubble that's waiting to come up through my throat and out of my mouth in one long, endless scream. But I can't let it happen because I'm afraid that once I start screaming I won't be able to stop. Yes, I'm serious.
To that end, I use the following breathing exercise when I feel it beginning:

Breathe in deeply through your nose for a count of 4 (Mississippi, of course).
Hold for a count of 4.
Breathe out through your mouth for a count of 4.

It doesn't always work, especially not if I wait too long after I feel the attack coming on. But when I do it right at the beginning of an attack, I always feel a sense of wonder that it actually worked and I'm breathing normally again.

Do I want to constantly be riddled with anxiety? No, of course not. It sucks. It flat out sucks. So I have to try to find ways to control it. I'm all about better living through chemistry, so I make sure I stay on my Xanax. I have the breathing exercise. I have my tattoo therapy. I have my weed. I have this blog. I have my family and friends. I have my animals and my fiance. And if all of that fails, I either end up angry or crying. I prefer angry. For me, anger is easier to control than sadness. So here's an angry song that's been stuck in my head for days, probably because the main words to the song are "breathe with me."


The Prodigy - "Breathe"