Quilt Square Ten: My Vision Board

i talk. they ignore: A Prequel To My Quilt

I FOUND MY MEGAPHONE!

 Me waiting in ER:  The pen was to keep me from biting & chewing the inside of my mouth.

Entry One:  March 29, 2016;

On December 26, 2016, at 7:45 AM, I left my house for work. It was no different than any other time that I’ve left for work. I was bopping to my headphones & ready to pull my full shift. I clocked on & went straight to work. I don’t remember much of the following three or four days.  For that you would have to ask my daughter, her finance, & a family friend. What I do remember is that I was fine when I got to work and 8:00 AM, and I was still fine at 10:00 AM, when my daughter and I spoke on the phone.

By 10:30 AM, when my daughter came to see me, I had developed a rapid heart beat, an issue with breathing, and was feeling very anxious.

That is about all I can say right now because I need a minute…

Entry Two:  March 30, 2016;

That’s when my daughter & her fiancé noticed that I was shaking uncontrollably. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me as I was starting to panic.

I have social anxiety anyway, so panic attacks are like family to me. They come in hard & fast, make me think I need to fight, flight, or freeze, then slip away & pretend that nothing happened. You know, like family. I have a few other psychological “disorders,” according to therapists’ opinions (mine, too, as I know how to read the DSMs I-V[i]), so before jumping to conclusions. . .

My mind started racing, & I started believing that I felt like I had just snorted or “parachuted” (swallowed a substance -- usually a narcotic -- wrapped in something else, like tissue or a gel-cap) a $5 bump (line of narcotics). I didn’t want to think that way, but what else could I think? I had NOT, knowingly, or willingly ingested anything weird or remotely related to street drugs in over a decade.

Symptom:  Pupil Dilation & Petechiae Hemorrhaging[i]

. . .  I tried assessing my symptoms, but my mind was racing. I couldn’t get my thoughts together. I kept trying to get my muscles to behave. You see. . .

. . . in October of 2003, I was diagnosed with Polymyalgia-Rheumatica[ii] (no relation to Fibromyalgia[iii], which I was diagnosed with last year – 2015). I also was told by doctors that I had hypothyroidism[iv] many, many years ago. . .

. . .  I kept trying to control my muscles & assess whether or not I could, or even should, stay at work. I guess I thought I needed to stay. All I know is that I usually completed all my tasks on time, or shortly thereafter, but that day I was nearly 2 hours late clocking off. Like I stated earlier, my memory of the events of the day are sporadic, at best. No matter how hard I tried to deny it, the only obvious answer was that I was exposed to something toxic while on shift. That would mean I either came into physical contact with a substance by happenstance or I was drugged.

Just the thought frightened me. So, I then had all these thoughts, assessments, & now conspiracy theories going round in my head. All I could think was that I needed to get to the hospital. It was all I could do to sit still, so that wasn’t an option. I couldn’t eat. I even had to force myself to simply swallow water that was already in my mouth without gagging & choking on it. I couldn’t relax. None of my skills for relaxation were working, & my symptoms keep intensifying.

Around 9 PM, my symptoms were so great they were interfering with my breathing. I had my daughter’s fiancé take me to the ER at PeaceHealth Southwest Medical Center. I asked the ladies at the front desk if I could have a blood panel performed because I was certain I was poisoned, or something. While waiting, I asked if I could have a Crime Victims Form, & reception told me that they are not the police, so they are under no obligation to report a crime. They said that was up to me. Later, I asked the triage nurse & was told the same line. Later still, at my release, I asked the doctor, Joshua J. Hurwitz, MD. , that treated me the same question about Crime Victims, & like a good robot, he regurgitated the same response, “We are not the police. We are under no obligation to report a crime. That is up to you.” I was in no condition to speak to anyone, & at the time the phone was frightening me for no logical reason, mind you. I couldn’t understand why no one was taking me seriously. I still don’t.

Me in ER:  I took A LOT of pictures (that was all I could focus on – called “tweaking” or “spinning”)

<3 AS ALWAYS:  Let Peace, Love, & Joy be yours. Blessed Be! <3

*Entry Three:  Coming relatively soon. This is a challenge.

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[1] http://dsm.psychiatryonline.org/

[1] http://www.mayoclinic.org/

[1] http://www.mayoclinic.org/

[1] http://www.mayoclinic.org/

[1] http://www.endocrineweb.com/

Quilt Square Nine: Gesticulate, Dreyfuss, Fallon, & Omnicide!

why is google dumb? or a more specific question, when i search for anything that takes intelligence (it matters not the search engine), i get gobbledygook in return for my inquiry?

for example, richard dreyfuss & i use our hands & arms when speaking. i couldn't remember the term for this, so i googled, "what is the term for talking with one's hands?" in return i received pages of "why do we talk with our hands?," "the science behind talking with our hands?," & many other similar suggestions.

i found it was faster to back to the episode of The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon, with mr. dreyfuss as a guest, on Hulu, turn on the closed captioning (praying that they got the word correct), & find the answer that way. There it was, much to my surprise & relief.

i am frustrated that the algorithm for finding things isn't as sophisticated as it was in the 1980s & well into the 2000s. i am disappointed that folks don't need to learn to communicate &/or expand their minds any longer. it seems that everything in america is so dumbed-down that those of us w/above average & higher intelligence have to rummage through rubbish to maybe/or not get sophisticated answers.

i use the oxford dictionary because they don't just accept words willy-nilly, & i use the oxford comma when i write (you know, for when you would actually pause when speaking aloud to tell the reader that it's not, absolutely not, just a babbling rant). grrr!

i wish you all peace, love, & joy as i commiserate by consuming an entire pound of sugar snap peas & a marathon of jimmy fallon & saturday night live. at least they can hold my attention & are clever AND funny. GAWD! there is a reason that OMNICIDE (which my laptop tells me is the wrong way to spell "homicide"-- not the word i want, folks!--INFURIATING! trust me when i say "omnicide").is my favorite word this week. grrrrrrrrrr!!!! that is all. . .  till something else happens.

Quilt Square Eight: so you want to be my friend, do you? do you really?!

being my friend is a challenge, both in real time & on social media, so I like to give it all to people up front. this has kinda become my one-minute commercial (like what one should have prepared for job interviews). it just makes eliminating the real people from the superficials (& the pickup-liners from the truly heartfelts).

are you sure you want to be my friend? i am a mess, not a hot mess, just a mess. i have major depressive disorder (MDD), post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) from childhood trauma, & i suffer from severe & chronic panic attacks that can be debilitating. being my friend, even on FB is a challenge. oh, yeah, did i mention i am a comedienne? i know. how ironic, but fitting.

i no longer hold my tongue as i've finally found my megaphone. sex ain't my thing as it's always been obligatory. but, i still like to look & flirt. just know that that ain't a part of my life. i feel the same about exercise, too, even though i am studying to be a yogi at present.

i hold no religious ties, but i follow the teaching of christ (he said not to worship him, but to follow his example. so. . . naming a club after him seems like the ultimate form of worship to me) & honor pagan holidays & traditions (i do not participate in birthdays & commercial holidays as most of them glorify a person/people/group(s) of people). i do not worship the pagan gods & goddesses, but I follow their example of stewardship of the earth, herbs, & the healing magick of the latter.

i support our troops & our men in blue, but i will not honor the people that make them do such things. i am a believer that ALL life--from prostitutes. Prisoners,  & the homeless to the president of the united states—all life matters.

i feel compelled to let everyone know these things up front because most everyone that requests my friendship--online & in person--gets offended by me as I am an asshole, exhausted with me because of my disorders, or gets tired of me asking them why they think the way they do.

i may be a bit abrasive & come across as bossy, but i am loyal to those that are loyal. i will always be truthful, not matter what you ask, good, bad, or indifferent. i believe in swift justice, & i'll drop EVERYTHING to help those i love move, deal w/heartache, & celebrate! if i love you, i will try to do so without conditions. however, i am horrible secret keeper (not that i blab on purpose, just that if it comes up in a conversation i’ll use what i know as an example), so if it’s truly something you don’t want others to know DO NOT TELL ME.

if you truly think you can handle ALL of this, then, yeah. . . but think on it first. think about it. . . thoroughly.

Quilt Square 7: Mental Health & Donald Trump

Me: so, i went to an evaluation therapist today (i know what you're thinking, "what? YOU see a therapist?" pssst: i only have PTSD from childhood trauma, MDD, social anxiety, & a few other letters after my name that are not connected to a degree of ANY earhtly kind).

Therapist: Can you tell me who is the current POTUS?

Me: (what feels like a long pause). . .

Therapist: (sounding a lot like ronald reagan) Well, . . .

Me: (clears throat) I think I can. It's (Tim Allen coined the phrase "Verp," meaning those times when you burp & a lil bit of vomit comes to the back of your throat) Well, . . . (in my head I sound like Reagan, now) yes, it's Donald Trump. It's not that I don't know the current president, but this is my first time actually saying it out loud (as if holding it in makes it pretend), & I didn't want to vomit on your beautiful (ahem--pretentious) office.
Therapist: Can you tell me the previous president?

Me: (sits up straight, smiles) Yes, the man that allowed me unemployment benefits that I cannot get now, medical, dental, & ocular care that even i could afford, Former Commander in Chief Barack Obama!!!

Therapist: I don't think you need therapy anymore. You seem very sane (that was his joke).