Monday, September 20, 2010

And again with the "Those who are late do not get fruit cup"

Title inspired by Mel Brooks. I love Mel Brooks films. Don't you?

For those of you just joining us or who've not been here long, you may not have yet picked up on our little secret about me.

Sometimes, I'm a big ball o' crazy.


There's no need to call the men in white suits...just yet. I'm not certifiable or anything. For instance, I'm not Lizzie Borden crazy. I don't even have an axe. And I'm not Sarah Palin crazy - although she makes me crazy but that's not the same thing. I'm not even crazy like the crazy cat lady who lives next door to you. Vinny won't allow it. He's an only child due to his penchant for violence toward other cats.

When I say I'm a ball o' crazy, what I really mean to say is that I lean a wee bit to the high anxiety side...occasionally. Not often. But often enough to know when it's manageable and when it's not.

Just so we're clear, I am un-medicated for the aforementioned anxiety. I had a prescription for Xanax once - for PMS actually - and it really didn't do anything for my anxiety or my PMS. Rather, it just made me feel really fine about becoming a raving, maniacal, hormonal lunatic once a month. On second thought...Yay Xanax!

Back to the point.

Last night, after I'd posted here as a matter of fact, I went to bed in anticipation of a wonderful night's sleep, and I laid there, eyes staring wide into the dark, sensitive to every noise and every movement Vinny made. When I finally did fall asleep, I couldn't stay asleep, waking every 30 minutes or so and looking at the clock. Today my anxiety was unmanageable. So much so that, for the first time in quite awhile, it manifested itself in a - TMI moment - IBS attack on my guts. A bad attack. Like, bad enough to force me to work from home, bad1.

It was so bad, at one point I was standing at the sink washing dishes and Lex "snuck" up behind me to put something in the toaster oven and when he shut the toaster oven door, the sound of it made me jump out of my skin You know, because the killer toaster oven makes threatening noises like gunfire...or mimes.

So I cleaned.

I do not enjoy cleaning as anyone who's dust sensitive would know had they been allowed in my house over the last 2 months...which they weren't because no one's been allowed in my house for the last two months because of said dust2. But! When my guts start saying, "Heh. Does this hurt? How 'bout now? Now? I mean, no really, now?" I pick up the rags and go at it.

Because nothing is worse than having my external environment mimic my internal environment. So, if I can't have internal stability, then by gawd, I will have clean sheets.

Tonight, I feel better. Cleaning helped me focus and to identify the causes of the anxiety - mostly related to the hectic schedule I've got planned through Sunday - and cleared my head enough to know it was time for some good old fashioned boundary setting exercises.

I canceled, postponed, rescheduled as much as I could. I exercised. I ate a big salad.


And still not writing about my weekend, am I?

Well...there's always tomorrow.

1: Perhaps the cause of the IBS was actually all the soft cheese I ate this weekend. We'll never know.

2: When I don't invite you home, and I think you know who you are, it has nothing - absolutely nothing - to do with you. It's because of the dust. Just...FYI.

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