Has anyone noticed the amount of chocolate syrup Starbucks puts in their hot chocolate? It’s still sticking to the roof of my mouth.
Has anyone noticed I start out all my posts with random lines that usually have nothing to do with the actual post? Because I just sort of noticed.
I’ve always had trouble beginning pieces, alright?
Anyway, I think I’m a fairly strong person. I have my moments, as we all do, but I tend to learn to adapt and strive towards the best possible solution.
I don’t panic. Probably because I’m in that state of anxiety 24/7. So when a car swerves into my lane and comes right at me and my passenger screams, I swerve around it and tell them to shut up. When it’s 9 at night and my mom’s car won’t start and she’s flipping out trying to turn on the ignition and sighing those large, dramatic sighs and her face is turning red from frustration, I’m busy spewing out three or four options to get us out of the situation. She hates that; she has to have her time to panic and then calm down and then think. I skip all the middle bullshit and just think.
But there’s a difference between anxiety/panic and stress. She can handle stress (and pain) like a boss. She’s slammed her hand in the door of her truck when I was younger and barely flinched. It swelled about five times its size and turned dark, dark purple and probably throbbed all day and she drove me to school and went to work where she types all day. My birth? Psh, she doesn’t even remember pain. Not an ounce. I asked multiple times. She said she just remembers a couple pushes and boom I was born with little devil horns on my head (which they conveniently removed) ready to spit shit at the world.
The horns make that story even more miraculous that she didn’t feel any pain.
She got kidney stones when I was about ten or eleven. She got them lasered into smaller pieces and refused any medication to help her through the rest of the processes. She was bedridden for about a week or so and when I asked if any of it at any time had hurt, she stared at me like she didn’t understand and said eh.
When her newspaper job cut her commission and refused to pay her when she actually reached her monthly goals (all those workers could have easily went to the labor board, these people were completely unethical) she was stressed, yes, and when she quit she was even more stressed, but she didn’t break down and fall into some deep depression like I would have.
People are different. My dad and I are the same. When he gets a simple cold, all hell breaks loose. He’s whining like he’s dying and needs people to wait on him hand and foot. When I get a sore throat oh . . . my . . . Gosh . . . I can’t handle it. I’m whining for hours and hours and resort to using cough medicine to get me through the night.
Although I found straight lemon helps alot. It burns my throat and sometimes I can get through the night without the medicine.
If you didn’t know, I don’t even take aspirin when I have bad headaches, so using cough medicine to me is a failure. Your body is capable of handling these things (headaches, colds, and yes, the fucking flu no matter what strand it is) on their own. We’re only making the viruses stronger.
My whole point in this rambling is I can’t take pain or stress. Stress makes me break down almost immediately and wreaks some crazy havoc on my body. For the last week my stomach has been aching like I’ve eaten nothing but rocks for dinner and I have no energy. Both my stomach and my mind keep me up all night now so I’ve got too sources working against me.
So I tried to get some sleep today. But because my father hasn’t seen his regular doctor yet (he just got out of the hospital yesterday), they haven’t been able to address the other weird temporal seizures or misfirings or whatever he has. He’s had two episodes today where he starts his little loud breathing tactic and says he gets dizzy and stares at you like the universe is expanding in his eyes and when you talk to him all he does is nod or smile like Jack Nickleson. He got up with his lighter and just started turning it off and on and wandering around aimlessly.
The second one he started his loud breathing tactic and said he was getting really dizzy. Usually once he says that, you know it’s going to be the last coherent sentence out of his mouth until it passes. But still, I continue to ask him if he’s okay to make sure he can hear me. And he does; he turns his head and stares with the universe yada, yada, and this time when I asked if he was still feeling dizzy his response was “We’re all dizzy all of the time so what does that matter? It doesn’t matter. Whenever I see you in the house you’re always dizzy. You’re always busy, busy, I mean dizzy not busy”.
It’s like loose association city over here.
It’s better than the sometimes “blahblehahbeloglogloglog” that you hear.
The trick to this shit is knowing when to call 911. At any moment it could burst into a full seizure (although all his grand mal’s have been alcohol related). But still, the threat is always there. And guess who’s had to monitor this shit for the last 6 years? This chick. So I know all the signs and all the symptoms and I can hear that breathing pattern in my sleep through the walls and know I need to go check on him.
Obviously, that causes a lot of anxiety.
So I went to sleep today when he took a nap. But it wasn’t really sleep. It was more like . . . my brain being half awake and making up sounds that weren’t there to keep me riding the surface waves of consciousness. I kept hearing him calling me into the living room and other random voices and I kept waking up in the middle of sleep paralysis. You know, you’re awake and aware of your surroundings but your muscles are rigid, your body is tight, your eyes can barely peek open, and although you feel your brain trying to move your limbs, they’re cemented to your bed.
I’ve met a lot of people who thought demons were choking them at night when really they described an instance of waking up during sleep paralysis.
Or maybe demons were choking them, I don’t fucking know what horrible things they’ve done in their life.
Demons like to have a little fun too sometimes.
Anyway, my nap today consisted of a bunch of unfamiliar and familiar voices telling me I had to go into the living room, conversations about random shit that ultimately ended with voices telling me I needed to go into the living room, and frustration over the fact that I couldn’t move my body.
I am not well rested.
I’m so glad when people who know me tell me how stressed out they are about their new car or new job and all the family planning holidays bring. I’m sure it’s so horrible.
I wonder if people ever give thanks for their health as much as they should.
You know, on every other day besides Thanksgiving.