An Injection

 My fingers are tingly. My chest is starting to clench up. My head feels like I just got an injection of hopelessness, despair and sadness. My throat is getting a lump. My eyes are preparing for tears. I'm getting dizzy and lightheaded. Maybe some of you are getting what I'm saying. I understand NOW what is happening. Maybe not completely but I'm on the right track. Eight years ago I would have zero clue as to what is happening. But now as my stomach tightens into large nautical knots, I'm getting it. As the tear buckets are just begging to ruin my face, puff my nose to three times what the Good Lord intended, and snot bubbles are on the ready to activate, I get it. As I start reactively thinking of self-sabotaging things like gambling, closing all the blinds, lying in bed, giving up, eating all the white cheddar popcorn that we own, screaming, eating all of my husband's Reece's Peanut Butter Cup stash or starting a career as an emo painter, I get it. 

I'm experiencing a panic attack. Or an anxiety attack. Regardless of the proper term, something is happening to my body; something is taking over my brain. And I have no control.

The thing that makes me mad about these panic attacks is that they never had to happen. I woke up happy, hopeful, dehydrated but determined to be my list making/organized/productive self. 

But then I called my husband at work. I told him of what I had accomplished and what I plant to do today. The short beginning of our marriage has been chaotic, difficult and draining. We have so much on our plate that we are just shoveling it in with our bare hands now but more keeps appearing. We talked about doing our parts to calm the chaos and get our heads above water. Just as I feared, I didn't get support on my priority list and what I hoped to accomplish. I tried to stay calm and positive but he had to make sure that I knew he only had one priority. There was just one thing he wanted me to do. He thinks our problems will be solved with this one less responsibility and I calmly told him there is a LONG list of things to focus on before that which will make a huge difference in our quality of life. He didn't seem to gladly agree. Not because he's a rhino's butt but because he is different and wants to solve things differently. And you know what, being mature, understanding that we are all different, that we all solve problems differently, does not make it any easier. I got off the phone as nicely as I could. AS I COULD. 

As I hung up, I instantly had that anxiety, that panic, that chemical change, the raw pain in my chest. This chemical change is something called the release of adrenaline. The injection of despair I felt is actually an injection of adrenaline. 

This is not what I asked for. This wasn't on my list. After laundry, my list never said, "receive adrenaline injection." I feel violated. I feel like a victim. I had a plan and my husband came along and just proverbially injected me with adrenaline. Do you know what happens after that? Do I simply continue with my day? No. My chest still hurts. I'm still lightheaded. I can't focus. I can't think. I want to run away or hide. The effects of this "adrenaline injection" are difficult to deal with. It's as if I was going along with my day and someone just shot a paintball gun at me. That wouldn't really hurt me, per se, but it would put a kink in my day. The unplanned paint would require that I stop, change my clothes, possibly take a shower. That is exactly what I am feeling now. I had to stop my day. I had to recognize that I've been "shot" with anxiety. I didn't ask for it. I didn't want it but here it is. Did you know that the adrenaline from "fight or flight" is an actual chemical in your body that is meant to help you survive? It stays in your system for about half an hour to an hour normally. To get truly rid of this hormone, you need to sweat it out or meditate. 

How different would it be if he just said something positive? Just a "I know we have a lot going on and your list sounds like a great start."

Then again, life isn't like that. You can just be in a grocery store and someone flips you off for no good reason. "Adrenaline injections" can just happen at any time, for any reason. I've simply had about a billion of these injections in the last 10 year it seems and maybe my body is just having PTSD from it all. Who knows? Probably a therapist would know. I feel rejected by last therapist so let's not even go there.

However, I am really proud of myself for recognizing what I felt was a REAL feeling. Just like heat or cold, adrenaline also PHYSICALLY affects you. I'm proud of myself for not eating all the white cheddar popcorn. I got sidetracked, yes. However, this small blurb that I am putting out on the web, helped me. I'm gonna take a minute to breathe. Then I'll drink some water. I'll eat lunch and hopefully I can finally get back to my fucking list in peace.

Alliances

 If life was a game....I would be dead. Probably. I've recently watched Beast Games where people take risks, strategize and build alliances. The thought of alliances does not bring about any kind of happy or positive feelings. It just doesn't naturally come to me but at the moment, the thought is repulsive. 

Let me fill you in on where I have been. Let's just say.....oh, boy. I could write a book. Let me sum up my last 5 years in 10 short sentences. Seeing injustice. Bull horn. Border Patrol Agent. A political party. An old man throwing a USB in my face and telling me that no man will ever want me in an attempt to get under my skin but in the back of my mind I knew the Secret Service Agent who I had sex with in my office a week ago... wanted me. Getting more fit than I have been in a long time. Talking to thousands of people. Crazy jealous bitches. Recognizing that I was exploited. Death. Death. Death. Betrayal and loss. More betrayal. A little more betrayal. Employed by the government. To be removed a couple weeks later because a woman standing up to her stalker is an inconvenient image. Meeting the only man that has ever felt like home. Listening to his house fire of drama. More crazy bitches. Marrying him anyways. Now my house is on fire. Getting fatter than I have EVER been.  And here we are. You are all caught up.

Oh, what? That was more than 10 sentences? Yes, sweetie. That's why we never. Fucking. Trust. People.

It's Monday. I'm sitting on the cream-colored plush carpet in front of the fireplace in my brand new bright and spacious town house. It's cold outside but the sunshine and blue skies are making it easier to focus on the positive.
For example, I am current on my rent (for the next 8 days). I have internet, cable and toilet paper, which will last me a life time since I bought it in bulk at Costco.
As I consider my position in life right now I remind myself that all is not lost. In fact, I have just discovered that the chocolate cupcakes with the delicious vanilla butter-cream frosting that my handsome lawyer date brought me last night are gluten free! Along with this small delight, I consider that I have in my refrigerator the champagne that he also brought and leftover Italian wine. My gas tank is half full. I'm 25. I'm young and beautiful. I have dreams. I have potential. I have a solid resume. And just in fucking case, I have about 1/3 of a special brownie left in my freezer. But, that's just in case.
On the other hand, the reality is that I just lost my job at a law firm. It's two days until Christmas and this just happened. It was pathetic. I cried. My boss, excuse me, ex-boss brought me into the conference room and told me that she will be laying me off. I can't say that I was surprised. She had text me before I left to work to ask me to bring her book about brains. She was acting funny when I came in. She wanted to talk to me in the conference room. I'm no dummy. However, I felt pretty damn weak when I had tears start to drip out of my eyeballs like a leaky faucet.
What the hell should I do now? How can I afford my life? I was able to come from broke ass living in a car to living in this beautiful new home. Now I have to go back? That does not seem like an option to me. That does not seem like an option at all. I refuse to accept this as anything less than an opportunity for something better. I don't know what the hell I will do about money but I DO know that I'm about to eat a damn gluten free chocolate cupcake with delicious vanilla butter-cream frosting. THAT seems like a good start to something great!