December is officially NOT flip flop season. Right?
I don’t care if it is an unseasonably warm day.
I should write a policy.
My hair is getting better, but it still ain’t great. I have too much bulk on my left side and it’s too choppy on the right side and my bangs do not like being bangs. They’re trying to slide over to the side, which makes them all wonky and not at all balanced.
There’s a new group in our cube farm. They are very serious, zen-like people. There’s a lot of bamboo and buddahs in their cubes. Very calming
However, there’s even a tinkling water feature.
And that’s going to get old really quick. Makes me have to pee.
I was a very happy, awake person during Arctic Blast 2010 and the Thanksgiving holiday. Now I’m waking up at 6:30 (oh, okay, 7am) and I’m just tired, and all I can think about is going back to bed.
I thought the old pretty pink pills (actually, they were white) were the problem, as did my doctors. I took them at night because they were a sedative. Anti-anxiety and all. But they were too much of a sedative. I was sleepy all the time.
Now I have new pills (orange and gray capsules, not as pretty) that are stimulants, so I take them in the morning. Todd says he’s noticed a major improvement lately.
Except for this week.
I’m starting to think the pills don’t really have anything to do with my sleepiness. I just think I was not configured to wake up before 8am. Period.
Speaking of anti-anxiety medication, a stronger dose might be in order as I had a complete freak out in kickboxing class a few weeks ago. And I haven’t been back.
I have little panic attacks in certain situations – most often in crowds. I say I don’t like crowds, but that is a total understatement. I wig out in crowds. My hands ball up into fists and started jerking in front of me, and I start sweating and breathing hard, and I just want to curl up in a ball and hide. Todd is a godsend. He’s so big, he can just stand in front of me and hold me and shield me. It helps immediately.
This is why I don’t go to festivals or parades anymore.
I’ve also been known to wig out in restaurants. If we’re being seated, and the hostess takes us to a table in the middle of the room, the hands ball up into fists and I start looking around wildly and twitching, and Todd will have to say (gawd bless him), “No, we need a table against a wall, please.”
I’ve freaked out in stores before, as well. Too many people, I can't get away from them, I can’t get to a wall to get away from everything that's touching me.
The medication has actually helped, I think. I haven’t had a problem in a while. Until kickboxing class, when Lisa had us sparring. I don’t spar. I don’t know how to spar, I don’t like to spar, I am completely opposed to doing anything of the sort. So when Lisa had us line up in front of each other, the panic started. When she told us what we were going to do, the fists went nuts, I started sweating, I started backing up and shaking my head.
Way to be subtle, there Rae-rae.
I went through with it, but it was even less than a half hearted attempt - a little punch here, a weak kick there - and I couldn’t even look at the person across from me. Even though every one of them told me what a great job I was doing. When we were done, I turned to get my water and cried.
Lisa hugged me and asked what the fear was. I don’t think there’s fear. Or at least, that’s not how I interpreted the feeling. It’s just a simple I Don’t Wanna. I know nothing bad will happen (I think), but I still don’t wanna. I want to curl up in a ball and shut my eyes and just breathe.
Is it an aggression thing? It is because I was bullied in school? Is it the same reason I despise boxing and war movies?
I’m still debating on if I want to go back. I like the aerobic aspect of the class, but I despise the martial arts aspect. And since it is a kickboxing class, it’s really not something I can escape.
And speaking of sleepiness (remember that? Before the kickboxing freak out?), it’s even harder to get up in the morning when Tom comes in a snuggles with me. He’ll put his little paw on top of my hand or my arm or my head. I love the pads of his paws. They’re a little “deflated” because of the burns from when he lived in a chicken coop, but they’re soft and he lets me rub them and play with them. I cannot resist the paws!
WANT TO KISS IT.
Elvis hates it when I kiss it.
I actually thought of more quirks, but I think I should stop here.
Who still likes me?