This is What Anxiety Feels Like

First, there is an electric pulsing throughout my body. Then, a slight shaking that continues. My breath becomes shallow and I fight through a sinking feeling in my stomach. Next, My brain feels like it is crowded by too much information. Every sound I hear is dramatically amplified - any kind of noise is too much. I work my hardest to banish negative words from my mind. The shaking gets worse - the tremors don't seem to be visible to anybody else in the room. My face is nearly immobile, as I struggle to keep my composure. I run to my room and I stiffly lie on my bed for a while. Then, the fight-or-flight urge kicks in and all I want to do is run away from my surroundings. I concentrate on my breath and my hands start to tremble. I want to cry but don't know why. It feels like the end of the world is coming, but I know it isn't. So many days start out like this. I struggle and try not to take any medicine. But then, after an hour or so of this torture, I break down and put half of an anti-anxiety pill under my tongue. I start to calm down. I feel a little ashamed for having to take the medicine. I tell myself to be grateful to have relief from the panic.

Imperfect Snippets of an Imperfect Life

Some people only post to their blog when they are fully satisfied with they have written. Sometimes this applies to me, but for most of this year, it has been a struggle.  My posts seem like half-finished thoughts and uninspired writing. I have  written several drafts that I later delete. Nearly every day, I'll see something or be inspired by a small incident where I tell myself, "I'll have to blog about this", only to either forget what happened or be unable to elaborate on my thoughts enough to make for interesting reading. So, this blog is not perfect (and neither am I) but is filled with little snippets of my recent life.

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It was Tuesday, the week day I visit my mother to do her housework, yard work and shopping. Sometimes, if she's in a good mood, we also sit and talk for a while and watch the birds. While at the window, I noticed that my ankles were swelling a little and I got a bit concerned. I explained to my mother how my feet, ankles, arms and hands swelled up when I was sickened by toxic mold a couple of years ago. Her first statement was "Come on, was that diagnosed by a doctor or did you just make it up?" and when I explained that it took several doctors before I finally got the diagnosis, she said "That must have been so frightening for you." Now, that statement would not strike most people as remarkable, especially coming from their mother. But, from MY mother, this exhibits a tremendous step in the right direction. Empathy - for something she has never experienced. I was thankful for this exchange and it gave me hope. Later I wondered how she was able to make the leap from skepticism to empathy and it struck me - her favorite TV show is the old drama "Little House on the Prairie", a program  filled with morality tales and lessons about the golden rule. Perhaps TV has its benefits, after all!

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I have begun volunteering, once a week, at a place that teaches horseback riding to developmentally challenged kids. Not only do they have a horse stable, they keep other small animals as well. I will be helping care for the small animals like miniature horses, chickens, goats, cats, dogs and guinea pigs. Oh yes, there is also an enormous pig named Blanche who needs daily meals. Each animal has specific recipes and regimens for dinner. The miniature horses (named Mozart and Minuet) have alfalfa sprouts and other wheat germs etc. added to their food. Blanche gets a mixture of fruits, veggies and 'pig chow'. Cats get wet food in bowls located in 2 places and the goats get some hay and dried kernels. Right now, I feel like an idiot, as I am not accustomed to farm life. The blistering heat takes a toll on me and I tire easily. Blanche got out of her pen when I arrived last week but I was able to gently coax her back inside until she escaped again. Each pen has a second secure lock that the animals can't undo, and I neglected to attach the one to her cage.  Later, two goats trotted out of their pen and it took somebody else, with a food bucket, to get them to return home. So far, I'm not much of a help. But, I appreciate the mission of the place and the people seem nice.

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I am actively becoming more passive about Facebook. I am reading more. Have finished 6 or 7 books in the last couple of months. Didn't realize how much I missed reading. After all, what is the month of July for, if not to immerse oneself inside a story? You know, I think I have always hated July. Especially here back East, where the weather is so ungodly hot and humid. I tend to hide inside, since I can't go for walks. As a kid, my mother used to call me a "hot house plant" because I didn't go outside. I hated summers in North Carolina, when I went back to college. I was bored because I wasn't attending class and couldn't find a summer job - and the one time I was employed, the monthly paycheck didn't arrive until the end of July and I was only able to eat by using my credit card at the college campus cafeteria. I'll always be grateful to Libby, from the math department, who bought me a box of blueberries from the farmers market. It was also July when I became deathly ill with toxic spore (mold) inhalation in 2010 and I was hospitalized for a week in 2011, in July, due to a pulmonary embolism.

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Thank God for second-run movie theaters that only charge $2.50 a show! A shame the local place only shows blockbusters. So far I have seen The Hunger Games, The Lorax, Men in Black 3 and Dark Shadows. Going to movies almost makes me feel normal - I saw a lot of shows back in Seattle, mostly at The Crest - a second-run house that specialized in independent or art films. I MISS intelligent movies. I used to especially love the free movie screening passes I got from the promoters and publicists hoping that I would mention the film on the radio. You can't imagine the joy I used to feel going into a movie and not knowing a single thing about it, and the glory of discovery, when it turned out to be inspiring - "Brother of Sleep", "The Priest", and "The English Patient" come to mind. After a particularly engrossing movie, I leave the theater in a daze. Sometimes I have to walk around or drive for several hours before I can come back down to earth. And, by the way, if you ever sit behind me at the movies and talk, beware. I WILL throw popcorn at you or shush you or glare. It is damned rude to talk during the film and I am sick to death of people who treat the cineplex as their own private screening room. I mean, what has happened to manners?

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Caffeinated Sunday

I am very grateful for the coffee shop within walking distance from this home. But man, oh man, does it ever cater to a different clientele. In Seattle, the plethora of caffeinated watering holes are filled with young adults staring at laptops or iPads through their hipster specs. Here, the average age of the male coffee shop sipper is about 60 years old. Their hair is either grey or balding and the women are decidedly middle-aged and older. Now and then, a young couple will enter to sip a latte or two, but they are a rarity. I must admit that, by appearance, I seem to fit in. But I still feel like an outsider.

Could NOT believe the overheard conversations this morning. I was sitting next to a table of four people discussing the recent approval of the health care system, now commonly referred to as "Obamacare". The loudest among them said "So, are your churches upset about the Supreme Court's ruling? We believe that abortion is wrong. Birth control is wrong. By forcing us to all have coverage, we are taught that this health care plan will make us pay for things against our beliefs!!" The lady next to him said "How can we be REQUIRED to pay for this? Our liberties are being taken away!" I have learned to sit quietly as I listen to these opinions but I chuckled to myself under my breath. I desperately need health insurance, but have been unable to afford it now, for several years. I figure any change is good - plus, the law says that the cost will be 8% of a person's annual income. However, I am suspicious because the health insurance lobby must have had a big hand in writing the bill, as their clients stand to profit mightily.

Across the room, a big bald-headed guy was complaining about a neighbor who was a repeat offender and alternating between prison and drug rehab. He turned beat read as he groused about the man's inability to care for his own estranged family while buying  the choicest cuts of meat at the grocery store for himself. Bald man's voice continued to raise when he told his friends he loaned his leather jacket to this neighbor who didn't return it until he got back from his latest stint in rehab.. However, it had been damaged - slit diagonally up the back with a razor. He explained that "if the coat looked too good, it would have been stolen at rehab". This is a suburban coffee shop.  But, life can be tough among these rolling hills, butterfly bushes and split-level homes.

Sometimes, I really, really miss Seattle's inane conversations about tattoos bar bands and software apps.