View Full Version : The Happy Thread :)
The concept is to create a collection of happy thoughts, encouraging words, stupid jokes, anecdotes, song lyrics, anything that makes you happy. Who knows, it might brighten someone else's day.
My first happy thought:
Mr. T becomes a local celebrity.
No, I don't mean that member if the A-team that had no pity for fools. Mr T was a turtle my kid came home with from the pet store. He was a cute baby red eared slider, half-dollar sized and ate voraciously anything you fed him. He didn't stay small and cute for long though.
Fast forward two years later. This turtle was now the size of a small dinner plate. After many tank upgrades he finally found himself residing free range in the house during the day and in a large plastic tote half filled with water at night in the dining room. The thing still ate voraciously and stunk.. and I mean STUNK!
Every morning my kid would drag this tote across the house, depositing the turtle into the tub for a quick rinse before letting it loose in the house, and would change the water out. No matter how much she cleaned nothing could get rid of that horrible turtle smell. He had just gotten too big to keep.
Red eared sliders are very common around here. It's not unusual to see one loping across the road after a good rain so the idea to set him free in the creek behind the house wasn't far fetched. With all of the seriousness an 8 yr old could muster she rejected the idea, stating he was born in captivity and would die in the wild. No amount of convincing was going to make her turn this thing loose.
I hatched a crazy idea. We went to the tiny local zoo on a Monday morning, Mr. T snuggled in my purse. We walked to the native species exhibit, made sure we weren't being watched and let him out to join the other zoo sliders. It was a win win solution. The turtle would be fed daily and he was out of my house. With a tearful goodbye, we waved to the turtle with the words scrawled on his shell in a child's hand with a paint pen "please care for Mr. T. He likes ham."
A couple weeks later I was at work and a co-worker that I had told of the turtle's fate showed me a brief write up about the turtle named Mr. T that showed up in the zoo exhibit. After getting a clean bill of health he was added to the exhibit as a permanent member. The article also warned of the dangers of dumping pet turtles at the zoo and introducing disease to their animals.
We still have the laminated newspaper clipping, reminding us of the time we helped a little pet store turtle find his 15 minutes of fame.
Cool story, and much better than where I thought this might be headed when you said the turtle was the size of a dinner plate...
Cool story, and much better than where I thought this might be headed when you said the turtle was the size of a dinner plate...
Ha! I'm a touch backwoods and a food-lovin' fat girl but even I couldn't conjure the will of trying to stew that nasty thing.
Sae and the Best Day Ever!
Once upon a time there was a half dead, kinda obese widowed single mother with an epic boyfriend and a broken microwave cart.
This delightful piece of walmart particleboard goodness had suffered at the hand of a humid Texas summer in a barn before finally resting in a new home. Three of the four wheels still remained, the drawer stuck closed, the top was warped and a piece of facing jutted out the bottom like a predator waiting to catch the toes of the unsuspecting midnight snacker.
The sad reality was that sae HAD to use the microwave cart to keep her microwave close to the cooking closet... err kitchen I guess... without taking up the almost nonexistent counter space. Those were sad times.
Enter epic boyfriend. He comes striding in at 8:30 am, 5'4" with the build of Johnny Bravo and the smoothness of Johnny Cash, carrying a very large, very heavy unmarked box. Breathlessly he exclaims, I got you a new microwave cart and I will assemble it when I return." and dashes out the door.
Now sae is many things, but when faced with a new assembling project patient isn't one of them. She tears open the box, takes out all the pieces and begins at step one without even looking at the cover.
Epic boyfriend returns to find his lady love hunched under a metal shelf, screwdriver in her teeth, placing the very final pieces to the cart. After the last screw was in place she took a step back and looked at it quizzically...
..."is this... a rolling toolbox?"
"Why yes, yes it is. The kitchen carts were ugly and impractical so I bought this stainless steel masterpiece. All the drawers even lock!"
Sae wheeled the toolbox into the dining corner, placed the microwave on top and smiled. Even though it was obviously a toolbox, somehow it fit in just right sitting beside the garage shelving he had installed for her last summer to serve as a pantry while he dog sat. Slowly her home was starting to resemble a garage, and she couldn't have been happier.
More happy today.
What's the difference between a dirty bus stop and a lobster with breast implants?
Ones a crusty bus station, the other is a busty crustacean.
Why can't you hear a pteradacyl go to the bathroom?
The p/pee is silent.
What do you get when you cross a joke with a rhetorical question?
That is all. This has been another round a stupid jokes by sae (all proceeds go to the buy a fat girl a hamburger foundation... "expanding the horizons of cellulite farmers across the globe, one dimple at a time")
sae - you are a talented writer. I am enjoying it.
raggamuffin
05-13-2015, 02:53 PM
Think i'm just happy - Nirvana
Ed
jessed03
05-13-2015, 05:59 PM
Sae, you got energy, girl. This forum was becoming a little quiet before you came along. It was pretty much just me and Gypsy sitting chewing gum all day, while Suff posted a lot, and Ed shared his tunes. Not much was happening.
Now we got ourselves a forum again.
sae - you are a talented writer. I am enjoying it.
Aww thanks :D
I've always wanted to do stand up comedy. Unfortunately I don't have the look nor do I have the cajones to try it. I can perform for crowds, but the moment I have to talk to someone one on one, or even worse over the phone I clam up.
That not having the look thing might not be entirely true though. I am pretty damned funny looking. Less that 5 ft tall, naturally redfaced, a little more than a touch hefty with a neanderthal brow, one hell of a maloclusion(sp?) and crazy red hair ( I love me, I am the only me there is :) )
On a side note I have some happy today:
Dj Spazzy Sae and the Chamber of White girls (aka the mall).
When DJ Spazzy Sae isn't busting out some funky fresh rhymes she is at home
.. alot. Oh, who am I kidding, she ONLY busts out those killer beats at home. Crowded places just ain't her bag of tricks. When her offspring, The Fresh Squid Princess of the Bible Belt, woke her this mornings she was all like "yo. Parental unit. My peeps up at the school said I get a free pass since I didn't wanna do field day, and I am just too cool for school... bruh."
Spazzy cracked open one allergen encrusted eye, lit a cigarette, and gave her an incredulous look.
"Yeah, I ain't havin' you cramp my style up in dis hizzy if you gotta be at school." So in the best way Spazmomica do, she drove Lil' Squid to the school and laid down some words with the principal. Sure enough, Lil' Squid wasn't talkin' no jive.
"Well.. crap."
It was a good day to get that stupid dress Lil' Squids has been yammering about. The trouble was it was buried deep within the chamber of white girls, a place so infused with new aged music and muscular headless mannequins that Spazzy Sae felt a chill go down her spine.
Fast forward 2 hours later. The greatest, the latest, the ball deflatiest, Spazzy Sae had not one but two teenage girls dragging her around the mall.
The place was horrifying, soul stealin', made Spazzy Sae crave a half caff latte and some yoga pants. The worst part was the echoing of small children. They was everywhere, grubby little germ infested fingers touching any window they could find, screeching and hollering like females in a television courtroom, or like spider monkeys having a hollering contest.
We buy the dress, Spazzy Sae opening her wallet to let the moths fly free as she dusts off her bank card. After a time Spazzy Sae gets tired
Shit happens yo. She got a lazy douchebag heart, and a general disdain for the folks up in that joint, so she takes a sit in the food court while the teen girls disappear into the masses of high ponytails and hi-lo dresses.
They come back with a present. A dress. Now if it's one thing Spazzy Sae knows, it's nothing in the mall fits someone of her unique stature. Whatevs. So the day finally wraps up, many bills are paid, and the two make it back home. Spazzy Sae tries on the dress, knowing for certain it wouldn't fit... but no shit, like a clearance rack glove, and not the kind OJ had in court either.
So Dj Spazzy Sae now has a new dress, affirmation she has indeed lost a little weight, and some new funky fresh rhymes to serve up. Word.
Sae, you got energy, girl. This forum was becoming a little quiet before you came along. It was pretty much just me and Gypsy sitting chewing gum all day, while Suff posted a lot, and Ed shared his tunes. Not much was happening.
Now we got ourselves a forum again.
Yay!! Thank you. Some places just need a little morbidly obese rainbow to show up after a good storm, I think :) this place is both fun and informative!
gypsylee
05-13-2015, 07:01 PM
Yay!! Thank you. Some places just need a little morbidly obese rainbow to show up after a good storm, I think :) this place is both fun and informative!
LOL@morbidly obese rainbow.
Yeah this place needed some more chick energy :)
LOL@morbidly obese rainbow.
Yeah this place needed some more chick energy :)
Ewww sausage fest. A sausage without out any spice is just ground meat stuffed into an intestine. "This has been Fist Deep Thoughts with your host Chakra Khan"
I have the worst luck. Why put it in the happy thread? Because it's just too funny not to share.
I started a new painting last night. What little I accomplished doesn't look half bad. Because the canvas size was larger than what I am used to I had to pick up an easel. Luckily I find one at Goodwill for a couple dollars.
A little snapshot of my day. I drive a very large, old, leaky service van. Its the kind of van that has me wishing i had an old couch to struggle with while humming Goodbye Horses. It has been raining off and on for days so the air outside resembles the underneath of a wrestler 's testicles after a match. It's hot, damp, and smelly out there. There is no ac in my van. The college kids are making one giant exodus out of town, so the roads are rife with traffic, idiot drivers and fender benders. A 15 minute trip took me nearly an hour.
I hurried home, put my painting on the easel and surveyed my work so far. I spent hours last night just in clouds. It was a real labor of love. I raised my brush, pallette clenched in my other hand, lean in real close... and spring one of the most dramatic spraying nosebleeds I have ever seen. Blood goes everywhere, my shirt, in my paint, on some of the painting, and it wouldn't stop.
15 minutes later I am still bleeding. Damn. I drive myself to the walk in clinic, they pack my nostril with gauze and check my warfarin level. INR 11.6. Paired with the likelihood being out in the heat, and just being out in general, raising my blood pressure my blood was thinner than an anorexic on a hunger strike.
After a vitamin K dose and a nitro patch (to lower my blood pressure) I was sent on my way. So here I am, back home, staring at the canvas and searching for my silver lining. Oh wait, there it is. The blood on the canvas is dry and it seems like it's going to be pretty easy to cover the spots with paint.
jessed03
05-14-2015, 01:24 PM
Sae what?!
That's gonna be my new catchphrase when you get up to one of your shenanigans, Sae.
I hope you take a picture of your work for us when you're finished.
Sae what?!
That's gonna be my new catchphrase when you get up to one of your shenanigans, Sae.
I hope you take a picture of your work for us when you're finished.
There is always some sort of hijinks going on somewhere.
This is what I have so far. It doesn't look like much more than a mess just yet. I love and hate the whole paint and wait process of acrylic painting.
Suppose it would help if I actually attached something...
1538
p1234
05-14-2015, 02:42 PM
^^ Like !! :--)
It now has mountains.
1539
jessed03
05-14-2015, 05:54 PM
That looks amazing, Sae! You're super talented.
Do you find it therapeutic (when you're not bleeding)? I used to love doing art therapy, but I only drew stuff like sand and sea and stuff, and it wasn't very good. :)
Antisocialtheatrefreak
05-14-2015, 06:41 PM
Dogs pull at their owners leashes just to come say hi to you
Antisocialtheatrefreak
05-14-2015, 06:42 PM
Also, there is a cookie place that will deliver directly to your home.. Tiff's treats
That looks amazing, Sae! You're super talented.
Do you find it therapeutic (when you're not bleeding)? I used to love doing art therapy, but I only drew stuff like sand and sea and stuff, and it wasn't very good. :)
It is sometimes theraputic. I have been painting since I was old enough to hold a brush. I spent countless hours as a kid munching on saltines zoned out to "The Joy of Painting".
If I keep it as a hobby only I love it. The moment I do this as work, mural painting, commission work, it becomes really stressful. It's easy to keep my thoughts linear, one thought at a time when I am painting. Gives the brain a bit of a vacation .
I tend to get a little obsessive with projects, however, so I have to severely limit my exposure to it if I plan on doing anything else. These days I often think about starting a painting but seldom actually do it.
Also, there is a cookie place that will deliver directly to your home.. Tiff's treats
Oh C.O.D. Cookies on Demand. That IS a happy thought.
This is my happy dance ~~( °¿° )~~~
It is done.
1540
I will never paint another lupine as long as I live.
Stabbity Stab STAB! A project poses certain doom.
So here I am, all up way late. I had promised to finish a pepakura project.
Slice, slice, blistery slice. ooh, Blistery Slice,that is going to be my name if I ever go to women's prison. Stabitha and Shankeisha are good choices too though. I hope I never go to prison, just so I don't have to make such a difficult choice. Anyways, I am cutting out the tiny little million pieces with an X-acto knife and felt a hair tickle my forehead. Without thinking about what I may be holding, I raise my hand, knife and all, to my forehead and proceed to stab myself in the face in the process.
I am not bleeding all that much, for me, just enough that I needed to rinse it a bit, maybe slap on a Dora the Explorer band-aid (Don't judge, they were in the Clearance bin). I stand up, only to realize a little too late that I had set the knife in my lap in the confusion following my self stabbing. Like a lawn dart it jettisoned out of my lap and strikes toenail. It appeared to have just chip my nail polish a little. Whew.
I'm in the bathroom, blotting the little cut on the side of my nose when I feel something weird on my foot. I look down, find that I have left blood smears across the bathroom floor, and my dog is now "cleaning" the tiny gash along my toenail.
"Holy shit, she has a taste for human blood. We're all doooooomed!!" I shout. It was just loud enough to rouse my very grouchy teenager out of bed to give me look that could only be likened to a depressed pirate on meth. Haloed in fuscia bedhead, she squint and sighs.
"What are you yelling at? Are you talking to the dogs again?"
"No, it's Godzirra" (best name for a tiny Spazzy dog ever, btw). "She has the taste for human blood and now we're considered prey."
She leans against her door with an exasperated look on her face. She points to the dog and grumbles " If you mean that dog there, the neurotic mini daschund with painted toenails licking her own snatch in my room, I think you're safe."
I didn't even get a chance to pull my disapproving mom face before she pushed the dog out of her room and slammed the door.
I marvel at the mess made by such a tiny cut, lean down to wipe up the floor, and the dog sidles up to me, licking and shivering and pawing at me. She had a taste and now she wanted more. I just knew it.
I carefully return to my project, keeping a close eye on Godzirra. She was waiting for me to drop my guard. That was when she would strike. Those giant liquid ebony eyes, that blank stupid expression that exhibited just enough intelligence to eat, drink, sleep, bark and crap on my bath mat on rainy days, wasn't going to fool me tonight.
I failed in my vigilance, however. I didn't count on her calling in reinforcements. My other dog, Ginger (a far less interesting name, but hey, she came pre named), lay on the back of the couch, looking much like a mangy road kill possum, in the midst of another 22 hour nap. A gentle nose from the ferocious Godzirra, roused her from her slumber. As if a secret was shared, they both sat on the back of the couch, staring me down, wagging the very tips of their tails rapidly like rattlesnakes warning of a strike.
I had to think fast. My eyes surveyed everything within reach. I had the knife, but I feared any pre-emptive aggression would trigger certain retaliation. Think... think. They continued to wag their tails, out of hunger for human flesh to be sure, staring at me with deceptively baleful expressions. I felt between the couch cushions and found my ultimate weapon.
Mightily I brandished my weapon. It glittered in the lamplight, and their eyes seemed to widen as I lifted it high over my head. "Begone, foul beasts, you will not dine upon thy flesh this night!"
"Mom! You're too loud. It's almost 2 am." came a call from the distance, but I steeled myself against the obviously distraction. It became clear my kid was in league with the dogs. The ravenous canines shivered in fear. I clenched my fist around my weapon, let out a terrific "squeak" and thrust it as far as it would go down the hallway.
The hungry creatures fled from the couch, disappearing down the dark hallway. Furious squeaking. If they could do that to a tiny rubber chicken, imagine what they could have done to me if I hadn't been victorious in battle!
Needless to say I will keep watch until daylight. No doubt they will return once they realize the meat is not real, and this time they will have their sights set on a sae steak instead... dun dun DUUUUNNNN.
jessed03
05-18-2015, 08:58 AM
Do you sell your pics, Sae? What do you do with them after you're done?
Admittedly they usually wind up in my personal art gallery, aka my closet. This last one, however, is going to be purchased by a friend. Hah, I hadn't even really tried to sell it. I just posted it on the face rib and she decided she liked it enough to pay money for it.
Yay happy stuff (cause I need a little happy tonight, I feel icky).
I sold the painting already. Super jazzed about that. Time to work on a new one, thinking something delightfully sci-fi.
Looks like I will be selling my Hippoforalkus (it's the name of my giant kidnapper van.) I finished the last of the repairs I can do on my own, so I have fulfilled my purpose. I will be so sad to see it go. The van and I have developed a rapport. It's time to work towards getting a new beater to fix, maybe something that gets better than 13 mpg and can fit through a drive thru.
I had a really weird dream last night. I dreamt I was a muffler. It was an okay dream but I woke up exhausted.
You guessed it, that was sae's stupid joke of the day!!!
superchick22684
05-20-2015, 09:34 PM
Yay happy stuff (cause I need a little happy tonight, I feel icky).
I sold the painting already. Super jazzed about that. Time to work on a new one, thinking something delightfully sci-fi.
Looks like I will be selling my Hippoforalkus (it's the name of my giant kidnapper van.) I finished the last of the repairs I can do on my own, so I have fulfilled my purpose. I will be so sad to see it go. The van and I have developed a rapport. It's time to work towards getting a new beater to fix, maybe something that gets better than 13 mpg and can fit through a drive thru.
I had a really weird dream last night. I dreamt I was a muffler. It was an okay dream but I woke up exhausted.
You guessed it, that was sae's stupid joke of the day!!!
Thank you for the joke of the day, I smiled :) I'm currently in a depressive cycle so that's a big deal.
Thank you for the joke of the day, I smiled :) I'm currently in a depressive cycle so that's a big deal.
I'm glad it helped you too. I'm right there with you. Today I have a sad. So here's a few more stinkers...
A farmer buys a new rooster, fearing his old one was just too old to do his rooster duty. When the new rooster arrives the old rooster approaches and says "I might look old, but I'm quick as lightning."
"Yeah right, old man" the new rooster replies cockily as he struts and surveys the hens.
The old rooster nods and offers a wager. "If you can beat me in a foot race, I will give all my hens to you and disappear quietly forever."
"I can out run you any day of the week." The new rooster crows.
"Alright, you have three passes around the barn to beat me. Don't slack off now. I really am quick."
The.roosters line up and they suddenly take off, running as fast as they could. The old rooster let's the new rooster pass him by, pacing himself yet keeping a steady distance behind. One time around, twice around, the new rooster is yards ahead of him. Suddenly the old rooster takes off like a shot as the round the last corner of the barn, just barely keeping ahead of the new roosted. The new rooster pecks and scratches at him, trying to regain his lead when suddenly the farmer emerges from the barn and shoots the new rooster on the spot, exclaiming "Damn, that's the 3rd gay rooster I bought this week."
Two cannibals are eating a clown, one says to the other "Does this taste funny to you?"
A cannibal passes his brother in the woods one day...
And my icky dirty jokes:
What is the epitome of a trusting sexual relationship? Two cannibals in 69.
Why can't Ms. Piggy count to 70?
At 69 she gets a frog in her throat.
superchick22684
05-22-2015, 12:04 AM
I'm really starting to like the happy thread. Yay for the happy thread!
I’ve always wondered how a person starts a story like this. I’ve always wondered, too,within the same jumble of this glorious mind of mine how narwhals became the unicorns of the sea. That is neither here nor there, however. I want to do the atypical anecdotal “It all began when I was 6 years old…” but lets take a journey much farther back. Oh, look, there’s chubby faced me hunkered in a corner toothless gnawing on a turkey leg.. no no, back further. Aww. There’s me smiling at the ceiling (I still do that often). Nope, further back. This is not a story about a baby on hapless adventure in discovering a sense of cognition and separation from her environment. This is the story of two people madly in love, tangled together in the gross, sweaty throes of parental passion. Ew.
Ethel and Sammy
Ethel the egg and Sammy the sperm had never truly met each other. They had heard through the fallopian tubes that today would be match making day. Each wiggling suitor rushed in, looking dapper and well trimmed, sporting wingtipped flagellum and enough pomade to drown a horse. With each suitor that arrive she simply smiled blankly, courteous. They were all the same, little wriggling business men with a singular goal in mind. Not a single one had asked about her day, or her journey from the Ovanarium.
The Ovanarium had been her last bastion of peace, nestled together with her sisters, waiting patiently for her turn to descent as the uterine offering to appease the menstrual gods. But Ethel wasn’t like the rest of her peers at the Ovanarium. She had dreams, hopes, aspirations, and a chaotic grab bag of genetic material to share. She wasn’t going to take this job lightly. By midday, however, she was beginning to feel the fatigue of fending off the grim faced sperm suitors. She wanted to rest, to give up, to let one in.. any one, just to make the ritual stop finally. She held steadfast, her resolve steeled by the real morbid possibility that she would fall victim to a loveless marriage of DNA.
As the day wore on, Ethel grew truly tired. She could feel her outer lining begin to weaken with each onslaught. Suddenly the march was over. Ethel clung to the uterine wall alone, eased only by the steady thump of thunder coming from outside of the uterus. She felt as though she failed her order. With a long sigh she began to settle in. It would still be a couple more weeks before the culling began and she would be gone forever.
Enter Sammy the Sperm. Sammy was, by all accounts, the most laid back sperm in the battalion. He had begun his journey slow and steady, occasionally stopping to admire his surroundings. Oh yeah, Sammy was also very, very high. By the time he cleared the cervix the warmth of the battleground was beginning to harsh his buss. Many of his comrades had fallen that day, writhing piteously in masses around him. These were the same fellows that had marched up and down the testicular training grounds as a newly developed sperm, each carefully combing their neat quiffs before soundlessly being jettisoned to the field.
Sammy shook his head. “That’s a real bummer, man. But these guys were never meant for combat.” Sammy continued to flagellate, fending off the bad vibes of death all around him when suddenly his eyes met Ethel. The little damp red world faded out of view and his heart, if he had had a heart, swelled with passion.
Ethel had given up her fight, but she remained hopeful somehow she would fufil her purpose. She saw no other suitors and resigned herself to failure when at last she spotten Sammy. He was a startling contrast to all the previous sperm, his hair long and unkempt, a worn tie dyed bandana showed his spectacular features. He swam in circles with no real sense of direction and that was all it took for her to fall in love. Oh, if her sisters at the Ovanarium could see her now. He was the embodiment of everything she was supposed to reject. He was perfect.
Sammy slithered up to her, smiling gently and whispered . “Hey, got any papers”. She shook her head, unsure of what papers were. “It’s cool, man, I have a roach.” He lit up, inhaling deeply (Lets forget for a moment that sperm do not have thumbs, or pockets, or lungs for that matter. This was how it went down, I was there!). Ethel indulged innocently and instantly felt a sensation of freedom welling up inside of her. Her words became free, her thoughts, desire, hopes all tumbled together in one brief statement. “I want you inside of me.”
“That’s cool. I can totally dig that.” Sammy said. With a final wink he descended into her and a bolt of passion shot through them. Suddenly they were one, a gestalt of defiant feminine wiles and the lax, unencumbered stoner. Genetic materials bound together, multiplying until both Ethel and Sammy were no more. In their place a miracle of lazy genius was created.
That was how my sister was created. I am pretty sure my Ethel and Sammy barked like sea lions, giggled at fart jokes, and accidentally combined while fighting over the last good page of a coloring book.
SakuraFett
05-23-2015, 03:07 PM
Sae I think I love you man haha. Seriously though, I've had a rough week with anxiety and reading your stuff has made me laugh quite a bit which always helps with the anxiety. Thank you so much for making my days a little better.
Sae Gets the Swamp Ass- Hilarity Does NOT Ensue!
So I love chocolate milk, chocolate milk does not live me. Pair that up with a big, loud storm, the natural dynamic of fat girl at a buffet (meaning an endless supply of things I am not supposed to eat) and a free pass to eat greens... let's just say it's been one hell of a night.
Act I- Liver Let Die
So I knew today the boyfriend would be taking me and the kid to a late lunch to celebrate Memorial day so I made sure to actually dress up. I mean straight up, to the nines, on point etc. Yesterday I was given the go ahead by my gp to have vitamin K since my INR was a bit high so this fat girl only had one food in mind.
Since this stupid Warfarin diet started I have missed two foods in particular, liver and stewed cabbage. Needless to say I may have gone a little liver and cabbage crazy at lunch. It felt like steak night on pay day.
Act II- Hitting the Bottle
Lunch had come and gone. I had eaten more in that lunch than I had likely had in the previous two days combined. We spent the next couple hours walking around various stores, my kid suckered us into buying her a bottle of chocolate milk, and we made it back home just as the first few fat drops of rain began to fall.
Once inside, in typical turd face teenager style the bottle of chocolate milk sat, mostly full, on my buffet... leaving a wet ring on the wood (grrr). I knew it had really been unrefrigerated too long to keep in the fridge so I did the very thing that has likely lent to my weight problems all these years and finished it for her.
Act III BoooooM!!
It wasn't long before the storm really started to kick up. One of more embarrassing aspects of my anxiety is that when continuously startled or sustaining high anxiety my stomach starts going crazy. I'm not afraid of storms usually, but this storm was really working my nerves. It was a real deluge. Water had started to come in through my laundryroom as it does after an intense rain. In the middle of dashing around gathering towels every cell phone in the house is going crazy, tornado warnings, flood warnings, road closures.
The thunder started as a low continous growl in the distance. Just as I finish sandbagging my laundryroom and sit down BOOOOOM! I squeal, the lights go out, the dogs are barking. The transformer in front of the house blew. The house grows dark and silent (save the piteous whimpering of the oh so brave canines of the house and my frantic panting.)
Act IV Culmination
The mood is set. I am coming down from some serious stress, enjoying the quiet dark with gentle conversation and a little bit of handsiness (it was dark, we totally got away with it. If you have kids you know exactly what I mean.) It was actually quite a bit of fun to relax to deep conversation. Suddenly I felt a queer quivering in my bowels.
I recalled the cabbage from lunch, the milk that I knew wasn't really going to agree with me, and being startled. I shift my position a little bit, hoping to stave off the inevitable. It was too quiet to run to the bathroom.
Being in a still growing relationship sometimes has its struggles. I am still in the "great impression" phase, so what would happen next could only be described as mortifying.
Act V - Swamp Thing
I shifted, I twisted, I tensed and even prayed. Nothing was going to save me from the inevitable. I dashed away in shame, slammed myself into the bathroom and ran the shower.
I will leave the next 5 minutes to imagination. I began to leave when I noticed the most God-awful stench. The humid sticky air of flooded laundryroom, mingled with the staleness of no A/C only amplified the terror that emitted from the bowl. I flushed, and sprayed,dear Lord how I sprayed. I had succeeded in smoking myself out of the bathroom. I nearly ran over my kid standing in the hallway.
"Oh MOM! It smells like someone poured fruit punch on a dead body out here!"
In horror I retreat back to the bathroom. I would just wait out the stench in the dark.
It wasn't long before a knock came at the door.
"You okay in there? It's been a while.. oh holy hell!! That is some serious swamp ass!" My boyfriend shouted. Now I Really wasn't coming out, at least not until the power came back on and I could turn on the vent fan.
He knocked again. "Come on out. It's not so bad." He assured nasally. He was closing his damned nose. I would not be moved.
The kid joins him at the door, nasally begging me to come out. "Come on mom, everyone poops. You read the book." I worked up the courage to slip past the door and slam it behind me. I was met with a tight hug.
"Swamp ass and all, you're beautiful." That sly dog said. He's smooth. That's one of the reasons he is amazing.
"But damn, woman, if they were handing out trophies for swamp ass, you'd be grand champion!"
Sae is on Point, and A little psycho.
Day two without a cigarette and let's just say I am less than pleased. It's all been going okay until tonight. I have just had a pretty decent night out and I am on my way home when I reach for my cigarette spot on my console... oh, snarts.
I chew my lip, tap my feet, a car darts in front of me and I had the strangest urge to monster truck that asshole. I may have actually succeeded if I weren't driving a 22 year old G20 utility van (that's 0-60 in 2.7 minutes, baby). I look down at my slightly sunburned crevasse and have a real battle of wills.
Tonight I was dressed to the nines. It was a good night for dressing up. We had dinner at a nice restaurant while discussing politics and a little story we made up called "Business Spider" (I will definitely share once I have it compiled into real thoughts). The dress is short, low cut, skanky chic in all the right ways. Okay, I confess, the real reason I wore the dress was because I am in desperate need of making a laundromat trip and have exhausted all of my more modest fat girl attire save this dress and an old lady kaftan (and even I have standards, so skanky dress it was.)
So there I was debating. Do I make a midnight Wal-Mart trip in the skanky dress to buy mints to keep from committing vehicular manslaughter on my way home, or suck it up and deal? An old woman on a rascal decides to cross the street in the dark, forcing me to slam on my brakes and wait. The jumperstarting kit I keep on a shelf in the back rolls to the front, my phone is lost in the floorboard, turning off my radio, and my engine stalls (as it does sometimes when I brake suddenly.)
The choice was clear. I zipped across three lanes and into the walmart parking lot. Anyone that has ever been to a walmart, in the south, at midnight on the first day of the month KNOWS the kind of people that come out of the woodwork. The people of walmart site is full of them. I don't hate, I flagelate, but a crowded place is a crowded place all the same.
I developed a game plan, I walk in and grab my mints, self check out and speed walk all 4'11" of me out the door. Simple, easy. I came in much like the wrecking ball that weird, probably reptilian illuminati woman sings about. I grab my mints and suddenly remember I needed to buy a new air filter for my ac return. Okay, just one more thing, no biggie. It was on the opposite side of the store, but I would be saving in gas not making a second trip tomorrow (11 miles to the gallon means never having to say "I'm sorry I never visit you").
I power walk, mints in hand when suddenly I hear a voice right behind my ear "mumble mumble, finals this week?" I turn around, poised in a perfect crouching tiger, hidden cheeseburger formation and make eye contact with a kid maybe all of 20 years old, grinning from ear to ear.
I have learned that eye contact opens to door for conversation, which outside of the written word is my eternal weakness. I have a little difficulty hearing so this timid soul was maybe about 35% coherent to me. I nod and smile politely, clenching my mints in one hand, and look to my destination.
"Oh, you must be in a hurry. I'll walk with you." He follows me all the way to the air filters, I grab one hoping, praying, it was the rights size, all the while this kid is rattling off about his basketball prowess in high school. I am certain at this point I seem like a real first class bitch as I can't seem to figure out two logical words to out together, yet he just keeps on smiling and talking.
He follows me to the checkout line, which didn't concern me too much. I was paying with a crumpled $5 bill clutched in my now sweaty hand so there were no card numbers to steal or wallet to spy into. I head for the door. Like a vampire uninvited he freezes, extends his hand and tells me his name. Oh God, I thought to myself in horror, there is a social convention I am supposed to adhere to but I can't remember what it is. I mumble through my whole name quietly, shout "I am a widow" maybe a little too loud and run, literally RUN like someone just said "free cheesecake and Bourbon in the park lot!" run out of the store and into my van.
I furiously dig through my bag, pleased to see I had indeed bought the right size filter and drive away, but not before popping a mint. Just as I pull away I realize the foul burning in my mouth wasn't terror, but wintergreen... ew, I hate wintergreen. I bought the wrong ones.
I looked back at Walmart, came to terms that I would just have to deal with nasty old wintergreen, and drove home.
You win this time, social anxiety, but the war is still in my favor.
superchick22684
06-01-2015, 12:17 PM
I went to Wal-mart yesterday too, it was horrid. You responded exactly how I would have in the awkward situation that 20 something guy put you in. So glad to read that while the situation was uncomfortable that you ended the situation on a positive note "You win this time social anxiety but the war is still in my favor."
Hope to read more stories from you soon Sae. :)
The Happiest Sae of All:
I sit today listening to the comforting rumble of the dryer turning amidst the settled silence of midday. I am content, immeasurably so.
The past few weeks have been tough. I have a teenage daughter that has truly been on a crusade to test my limits. Much of her behavior is typical of her age, defiance and pushing boundaries in an effort to assert her independence and individuality with having truly developed a good grasp of responsibility. I was much the same at her age. Some of it is simply because we are both haunted by our past, the loss of an integral part of our family, and the guilt that comes with acknowledging we are better off now. At least a small part is fed by the millenial mindset of instant gratification, victimization and identity vs ideology. As much as I would love to get into these subjects (and likely piss a few people off, as tends to happen when you out yourself as a moral traditionalist), that is neither here nor there.
In short, she has been a difficult individual to live with, made more difficult by my persistent attempts to steer her in the right direction (which isn't fun, nor immediately gratifying for either of us.) She insisted on staying a week with her grandparents simply because she "can't stand to be around the ignorance" I supposedly subject her to daily.
I hated her absence almost immediately. I was alone, truly alone, left to my own thoughts. I picked up my house a bit, worked on a painting, ran around in the back yard with the dogs for a bit, and made my way back in for a quick one person dinner. I had barely preheated my oven when my phone rang.
"I need you to do me a favor. Meet me at my place at 6."
There are seldom explanations from the boyfriend when his schemes are afoot. I have learned quickly to question little, go with the flow, and I will be pleasantly surprised.
I arrived a few minutes early yet found him standing by his truck, grinning from ear to ear.
Without another word I rode with him, out of the neighborhood, out of the city, through the next city. We drove for nearly an hour before pulling into a small parking lot virtually obscured by trees. There was no other landmark around to indicate signs of life save this tiny hole in the wall barbecue place.
It is well known by my closest friends I have a great fondness for these little, barely discovered eateries. The inside was dark and quiet, no one else had been seated save the bus boy shouting at the game on tv.
We had spent to drive to this place listening to our favorite new radio podcast and discussed the topics briefly. In the midst of our animated conversation he stopped, mid sentence, and smiled again.
"You're beautiful."
Heavy silence.
I am, by all accounts, the least likely to believe such a line. I love me, I an happy with the way the Lord made me, but beautiful? No, I had come to terms with that long ago.
"I mean that."
Just in time the food arrived and we ate quietly. The food was... I can't even describe it, like mana from heaven. Perhaps it was all the funky happy feel good chemicals my brain began pumping out as I blushed in the semi dark that made it taste so amazing, or the realization that he had made such an effort just to find the right place, some place with good food and no people, just for me.
We finished our meal and began our drive back home. We talked more on politics, his job, our silly Business Spider idea, listened to his super random itunes playlist. Then my kid called me.
"Hey, how is it going?"
"I hate it. Geema told me I am going to hell because I ... " my boyfriend took the phone from me.
"Hey... yeah... that sucks.. you DID insist we take you there, remember?... But you're okay? Hurt feelings aren't going to kill you... see what time it is? ... yeah, that's right, not unless you are dying, someone else is dying, or there is risk of dying.. just for tonight. Ok, here's your mom." He handed the phone back.
"Okay mom, everything's cool, bye!" She said cheerfully and hung up before I could get a word out. Weird.
We arrived at his place where he proceeded to dash out of the truck, telling me to wait, and disappeared in his house. Many minutes passed before he arrive back outside and handed me a single rose, back to grinning widely.
Inside his living room was dark save a collection of candles, not those scented things in jars but emergency candles propped up in mason jars.
"Tonight I am dancing with the most beautiful woman in the world."
I have seen and experienced a great number of things throughout the years, but I had never danced with anyone, never seen the amount of care placed into an evening as much as this one, solely for my benefit. I stumbled, I fumbled, I blushed, and felt strangely like crying. In the world of sae I am just me, no frills, function over fashion, keeping a tight lid on fanciful ideas. That night, for the first time in my 34 years I truly felt beautiful.
The rest of the night I will leave to readers' imagination. It's was the sort of sap fest women read about in dime store harlequin romance novels, but it was not a story this time. It's hard to believe the same person I had spent well on a month avoiding over a year ago out of fear and distrust would later orchestrate a moment I will carry with me forever.
I sit contentedly listening to the dryer tumble, recalling the evening before. The world feels different. The funny thing about feeling special is that it doesn't dissipate when the world returns, but lingers like a cool breeze.
Today, in sae's world, I am special, and beautiful. Tomorrow, and every day after, no matter what life throws at me, I will know with certainty I am still beautiful. My past, the pain and guilt, abuse and sadness, will become nothing but a distant memory. I have danced, and I am loved. This is contentment.
Happy listening:
Just trust me on this one :)
Space Ghost's Musical Bar-B-Que: http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLyMEobniwO9st_0BTeHk1rbvaKDqJfeG2
So much Happy and a little sad. My giant kidnapper van is slated to join an equipment auction next week. I had finally done all the work I could do to it to make it a solid use able (albeit slightly uncomfortable) work van. I am going to really miss the old beast.
The van is moving out and a new car has moved in. In the words of my dad to my sister "it looks just like her van, ugly and solid." I am looking forward this new project since this one is mostly cosmetic repairs. I am lying in wait for all my parts to ship in, dancing around my mailbox daily in hopes my switches, light assemblies, and sunroof motor show up. I feel blessed that while I can't remember my kid years all to well, i seem to have retained all the knowledge of helping patch cars together and reading Chilton' s manuals for fun.
The kid is out of state for the next month. I am torn between feeling super lonely and a little nervous about spending so much time alone yet a little relieved to have a reprieve from the weird makeup messes in the bathroom, half eaten plates of food on the back of the toilet (eww, right?) And typical teenage girl attitude.
And right now I am happiest my new heart med is starting to help me sleep at a decent hour again.
The End, stay happy my friends
This is supposed to be a happy thread, and I swear I am happy, dammit... grr grr. So let's call this a cheerful vent. Judgment day at the head dr went well, like a delightful sugar coated ass sitting on a wet bench on a cold day.
Received my "diagnoses" no real surprises except for one. It seems now I have to reinvent my approach to how I handle my anxiety, despite assurances that my treatment will not change all that much. Bless her heart sweet fake orange tanned tormentor, what we were doing was almost kinda working. Don't pick at the scab or it won't heal.
Being trapped in the social health circuit leaves me little room to request a second opinion, but I am still in the throes of not accepting it too (even if it does make so much sense of many of my quirks and deficiencies).
I should at least give it a fair shake, assume that a disorder is a potential root for my life long anxiety. Unfortunately I am still under the impression that disorders are never fixed, just worked around. Hopefully in time I can prove this idea wrong.
I was really hoping all this prodding around, question after question, specialists and the neurologist would just prove I am your average everyday spazz. At my heart I am still just that, fixable, hopeful.
Goomba
06-24-2015, 04:59 AM
What is the diagnosis?
The claim is NLD. In some areas it makes sense. I have some real social deficiences, I can't read people's facial or social cues, i seem to rake whatever is said to me as truth as i am unable to ooerate within the realm of ulterior motives (although i am aware they exist I can't spot a lie)... but where I become tripped up is on the whole verbal expression thing. From the things I have read so far tonight those with NLD are supposed to be great at speaking, whereas I am so terrible at speaking much of my therapy sessions are me writing the "I feel" statements on paper. If you and I were talking in person you would be hard pressed to not believe I was in some form mentally handicapped.
I avoid talking out loud to just about everyone as much as possible. My spoken words come out jumbled, disorganized. I am tripped up by everyday words. I can hear them in my head, understand them, but the brain to mouth relationship is on the rocks. I spend so much time writing my thoughts here I think simply because at least in this form I can adequately match my words to my thoughts, and I can finally, FINALLY make a few intelligible statements.
Admittedly there is still much about it I don't understand too. The cynic wonders if this is just another way increasing their patient base, thus increasing their funding, but I can't tell you with any certainty this is absolute the case either, only that it happens.
Goomba
06-24-2015, 11:55 AM
Hmmmm. I don't know. That type of diagnosis is pretty specific and involves a comprehensive understanding of the individual.
I'm skeptical of it taking this long to be diagnosed, however. Lots of trouble in school, issues with fine motor skills (which I'm pretty sure isn't a thing for you after seeing your paintings) and neurophysiological areas - the brunt of this should have been a big issue for you growing up.
Simply struggling with nonverbal communication and recognizing lies isn't enough to constitute a disorder.
Never hurts to allow the flow to happen, see where entertaining the diagnosis with the doctor can take you.
With the absence of a physical counterpart, social understandings and overall social intelligence can always be improved upon, always. I operate in the opposite of you, believing that disorders can be overcome, especially if we are talking about the mental components. It's a rare sight that a mental disorder isn't the result of how we learned to perceive our world and ourselves. It can be immensely difficult to adjust that, but it can be done.
Regardless of the case, a disorder doesn't define you, it just gives you a different set of rules to play the game of life with.
Having different rules doesn't mean you still can't win the game. :)
I like that. I think once the aggravation of it it has completely settled out I will feel much better about my reintegration into the real.world again. I feel a bit better about it since talking with my GP this morning.
I was a shit student up until the 5th grade. What saved me each year, and became my asset was my ability to eideticly recall lecture. To this day I grumble whenever I have to assemble something by picture examples. I need words.
Nope, my fine motor skills are pretty damned great. I trip over my own feet regularly, and my handwriting is the most awful scrawling ever, but I paint, play video games and piano, so I am with you on that the physical component just isn't there.
As I am getting older though I am noticing my hands shake a touch, my paintings take much longer to get right. I have had the hand shakes since I was taken off of zoloft. Zoloft caused me to tremor so badly sometimes it looked like I had parkinson's or I was having little seizures. I Still took it and said nothing for almost a year simply because it worked on the anxiety. It's been a long time since I have taken it and I still tremor from time to time.
I think once I finally let go the desire to guess the real motivation of the clinic to diagnose me with a disorder I will simply revert back to the same approaches to my anxiety that are proving slow and steady sucess. My GP (my doc is amazing) claims this is sometimes the approach the mental health clinic takes when they have someone come in that doesn't quite fit their criteria to qualify for help as per the state. Essentially I have to be damn near crazy enough to consider institutionalization to qualify in order to be kept on as a patient unless there is some form of diagnosed disorder that reduces my functionality. It isn't enough to just be afraid of leaving one's home, or being generally panicked. If this is the label I need to carry around to affordably help me get back into the working world I will wear that mess like a badge of honor. It's getting down to crunch time. The days of starting actual in class classes are fast approaching and I need to be ready to do it daily... almost there.
Happy pictures.
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superchick22684
06-26-2015, 11:08 AM
I like the stuffed owls and the dog.
I like the stuffed owls and the dog.
Thanks. I actually originally took the owls to show my sister, but thought it was a pretty color composition.
The dog is my darling skidmark Godzirra giving me the side eye because she had to burrow under the pillow (her blanket was in the dryer.)
I lost my temper... and it was AWESOME.
One of my more confusing anxiety traits is often seen from the outside as extreme patience. Something stupid happens, I smile and go about my day as nothing happened. I don't send back food, if I am cheated out of money I just shrug and let it go. I once thanked a cop for giving me a ticket. It was funny in hindsight because I was given a ticket for my tail light being out right after the transmission exploded at an intersection. Fluid everywhere, the cop watched me push it by myself through the intersection, Then gave me a ticket. It's just what I do. I don't ask alot of questions, I just deal with what comes.
Today is a different day, however. I get a call that once again my Drafting course had been cancelled. The last time this course had been cancelled I was out a good $300. I was never given any paperwork stating I had to request my course tuition refunded. This time around I knew I had 5 business days to request a refund. Then I was informed that the lady that handles tuition payments was on vacation and would not be back for 2 weeks.
I was a little annoyed. To make a long story a little shorter, I was going to be out another $300 since no one was able to process the refund in time. No serious business should ever be conducted over the phone so I dropped everything and drove to the college and requested to speak with someone that would help me push my refund request through.
Then it happened. I was informed in order to speak to someone in the business office I had to set an appointment and the earliest was the beginning of next month. I didn't yell obscenities or speak with belligerence. I was firm and cool headed. Still I created enough pressure to be seen as a walk in and I left with my refund request processed on the spot. Now to wait for a check.
It doesn't seem like it was that big of a deal. People do this sort of thing everyday. I didn't panic, say a few platitudes and dash away. I stood my ground. Everyday I become more human. Each day that passes I feel stronger than the last.
I am the worst pet owner ever.
I decided to start walking them to burn off their excess energy since i have been gone much of the day this past week and a half. I went out, bought a ridiculous hooded harness for Godzirra (my spazz) because she has a tendency to become startled, slip her collar, and bolt. I have made her wear this ridiculous thing for 2 days. She looks like the daschund version of a hipster pirate. She refused to go outside the front door yesterday so she was left behind. Today I made her walk. The first 20 yards I near had to drag her away, but once she saw how much fun Ginger was having, pulling and straining, running and wagging her tail, it wasn't long before they were running shoulder to shoulder. It has literally been years since I have jogged and I very well may have looked downright ridiculous myself, but we did it.
I have exceeded my level of lazy. It is almost midnight and the dogs know it is treat time. Except I forgot to buy treats today. The store is literally a 4 minute drive from my house, yet I couldn't be bothered. They wound up with a frozen catfish nugget each for a snack. Once it cools down outside and we can walk in the daylight hours we can probably walk to the pet store for treats each day but heat is not my friend, and boobs sweat is just not cool.
Two tired weiners with fish breath.
undertakerfreak1127
07-12-2015, 11:06 AM
I wish I knew what it feels like to be truly happy again...
I wish I knew what it feels like to be truly happy again...
Happy is fleeting, you don't get to hang out in happy, but every now and then it comes in the smallest things. Happy comes from contentment, and contentment is derived from a mixture of acceptance and drive to change the things you have control over.
Part of my reason for Journaling my happy moments is to give myself some perspective on my own contentment. When I look back at all the happy moments I have had even in spite of the storms I come to see the whole picture.
Anxiety is a thief and a liar. It whispers in your ear that you are unhappy and you never will be happy again. The best defense against a liar is the truth. Even if all you do today is wake up in panic, you woke up, and there's a bit of happy in that. You get another shot to try it over and over again, adjusting your tactics. Before you know it, you find a little happy happens more often, and then contentment comes marching in setting out landmines to blast that bastards anxiety when it tries to encroach on your turf.
I still have sad days, I still freak out like a little kid in crowded places, but I make it a point to actively seek out happy.
You are a blessing to yourself and those around you just because you are you. We all have quirks and eccentricities, but they are just part of one awesome package of individuality. Being happy, finding contentment, first comes in loving yourself. It sounds like crap, I know, but you would be surprised how easy it is to be content when you find the time to love yourself in spite of your shortcomings.
One day you will find it too. No emotion you can ever feel is stuck on your forever. The mind is a wondrous amalgam of fluctuating emotions. Sometimes one gets jammed in the works, but eventually it shakes loose like a bag of chips trapped in a vending machine. Knowing that how you feel right now has a finite end makes it easier to change it.
I hope this helps and I hope one day you can see all the little bits of happy spread around you, hiding in your peripheral vision. If you find them, please feel free to share them too :) Journaling happy has an avalanche effect like that.
Goomba
07-12-2015, 02:38 PM
Happiness is a way of life, not a destination.
It's as simple as that.
jessed03
07-12-2015, 02:52 PM
Happiness is a way of life, not a destination.
It's as simple as that.
Very good, sir. Very good. :)
superchick22684
07-12-2015, 06:03 PM
Happy is fleeting, you don't get to hang out in happy, but every now and then it comes in the smallest things. Happy comes from contentment, and contentment is derived from a mixture of acceptance and drive to change the things you have control over.
Part of my reason for Journaling my happy moments is to give myself some perspective on my own contentment. When I look back at all the happy moments I have had even in spite of the storms I come to see the whole picture.
Anxiety is a thief and a liar. It whispers in your ear that you are unhappy and you never will be happy again. The best defense against a liar is the truth. Even if all you do today is wake up in panic, you woke up, and there's a bit of happy in that. You get another shot to try it over and over again, adjusting your tactics. Before you know it, you find a little happy happens more often, and then contentment comes marching in setting out landmines to blast that bastards anxiety when it tries to encroach on your turf.
I still have sad days, I still freak out like a little kid in crowded places, but I make it a point to actively seek out happy.
You are a blessing to yourself and those around you just because you are you. We all have quirks and eccentricities, but they are just part of one awesome package of individuality. Being happy, finding contentment, first comes in loving yourself. It sounds like crap, I know, but you would be surprised how easy it is to be content when you find the time to love yourself in spite of your shortcomings.
One day you will find it too. No emotion you can ever feel is stuck on your forever. The mind is a wondrous amalgam of fluctuating emotions. Sometimes one gets jammed in the works, but eventually it shakes loose like a bag of chips trapped in a vending machine. Knowing that how you feel right now has a finite end makes it easier to change it.
I hope this helps and I hope one day you can see all the little bits of happy spread around you, hiding in your peripheral vision. If you find them, please feel free to share them too :) Journaling happy has an avalanche effect like that.
This is an excellent response sae. Fully agree on anxiety being a thief and liar so is depression.
Sae is the Luckiest (and i dont mean this sarcastically)
Today is a day for being happy, so here I am, my very best smile on :)
I have had the sads lately, contemplating my quality of life quotient as it seems to spiral ever downward. The simple truth, however, is that I am far more lucky than I give myself credit for.
Quick and dirty run down of the past month:
Went into dr. thinking I was having a nasty panic attack, turned out to be a pulmonary embolism
Lots of doctors argued over my treatment
2 weeks later home again
My house looks like ass
I sleep alot, run out of breath alot, and throw up alot (warfarin doesn't like me)
I no longer have heart disease (no more lipitor, statins can just eat me!!)
I do have a confirmed MVP, and I am a Thrombopheliac
I completely quit smoking (no more after dinner cigarette) ... not happy about it.
Oh yeah, my anxiety and depression have been off the chain, yo.
Life is strange. I look back, feeling as though I am falling into a pit of self pitying "Why me". I daily make it a point to be the best person I can be, yet the tragedy never seems to end. Then I straighten up and realize that in spite of it all I am still here.
It's a matter of perspective, really. I could say "I feel terrible, daily." Or I could look at recent events and say "if it hadn't been for my history of anxiety, I might not have gone to the doctor that day... I wouldn't be around." Heh, you'd think a Pulmonary Embolism would hurt, right? Nah, I felt like I was having a touch of angina with a racing heartbeat. Go into the doc, beg for a very small run of benzodiazepines (because poor people clinics do NOT prescribe them around here unless you are bad off, even then you usually get 5 super low dose pills to hold you over until you can get to an appointment to have whatever ssri soup d'jour you're on tweaked.)
So I guess in a way you could say my anxiety saved my life. I am not unfortunate. Instead i am pretty damned lucky; i have had 2 heart attacks, a thrombocypenic episode, nearly bled to death after a dosing mishap, and have had a PE and have lived through every one of them.
I may continue to battle with my quality of life issues, but there is no denying I am definitely still alive. That is pretty top notch quality in itself.
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