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Wistful ladies and life after freedom of speech

I’ve been on a sabbatical of sorts from my site – for various reasons.  One of the least interesting being, my usual writing routine was disrupted due to no WIFI at the laundromat.

Some other reasons include:  Lack of interest, health issues, life changes, procrastinating purchasing batteries for my wireless keyboard …

Some writer I am.

Poe didn’t just lay around staring at his quill and just thinking about penning more cousin pining perversion or tooth obsession.  He got on with it.

Then again, he did have a metaphorical raven egging him on.

If I’m going to be truly honest though – (ironic considering what I’m trying to say) I can no longer not edit myself here.

Recent events I want to share with you involve others and I don’t have the license or lack of conscience to tell their story.

Even if I was cryptic they would know who they were – and I don’t want to hurt anybody.

I seriously considered taking Debauchery Soup down completely.

I’d rather not write at all than not write honestly.

But, there have been some past pieces that I’m quite proud of over the years.  In addition, pieces I know have helped others (I do read the private emails and comments I receive from the side bar) so, Soup remains.

I’ll tell you some good news though.

I conquered agoraphobia!

My anxiety has decreased significantly.

I’ve been not only leaving the house – but, ‘peopling’.

I’ve acquired a social life.  Yes, me.  OK, so it’s still heart pounding to begin with – but I find myself settling in no time.

I honestly can’t remember the last time the house was cleaned from top to bottom, I haven’t been cooking.  I’m enjoying life home alone because I’ve finally accepted that things don’t constantly NEED to be done – I can take time for myself even if there is a dish in the sink or dog hair on the carpet.

Which does now remind me of a story I can share.

Comfy?  Ready?  Here we go:

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I was in a clothing store early in the week perusing the racks of dresses when a petite older lady approached me.

“Did you ever find something that fit so perfectly and was so lovely that you just HAD to have it?”

(These encounters happen often for me – strangers coming up to me and chatting)

I saw the top she was holding up.  It was teal, flowing, layered and sparkly.

“I have.  That’s beautiful!”

“Oh,” she said, “It is – but, I don’t have anywhere to wear it.”

“Why not wear it at home and have a glass of wine?”

“I don’t drink.”  She answered.

“Ok, well, the holidays will be here before you know it!”

“Then it will be too cool to wear this.”

At this point, I’m invested in this woman getting the top for herself.  But she continued with,

“Besides, it’s a younger girl’s style.  I’m 80.”

“More the reason to get it then!  No time like the present!”

“I think it’s too dressy for church too …”

I’m torn at this point between smiling and exiting the conversation while internally yelling ‘don’t get the fucking top then!’  Or doing everything in my power to make sure she left the store with it – whether that meant I purchased it for her or took her hostage to the cashier and forced her to treat herself.

“Certainly they have functions though?”

“No, not my church.”

I was striking out – and long past looking for anything for myself.  I wanted this little lady to have something that she had loved on her – something that had made her feel beautiful and wistful.

She suddenly remembered she had a similar, less splashy top in her other gnarled hand.

“OH!  Well – I should probably try THIS one on.”

I smiled and we parted.

I left hoping that other top fit just as well – but also sad that she didn’t get the one she obviously adored.

She was being practical I know.  But sometimes we have to treat ourselves to something fanciful.

And that’s how I’m living life lately.

Doing things that make me happy and not questioning a thing.

My life right now IS that lady’s sparkly layered top.

Musings from … Home. Peopling, policing and pushing myself edition.

I peopled yesterday.

Twice.

Let’s rewind.

Tuesday night, my heart decided to go into overdrive – not anxiety, but my ticker issues.  I reached out to one of my bosses who talked me through it.

I was terrified.  Especially when I began experiencing disassociation  and couldn’t form sentences correctly.  THEN began the anxiety attack.

Double whammy.

Wednesday morning, I couldn’t walk Butters.

(Who, by the way, is enjoying a cuddle day today – she’s been slowing up of late and walking stiffly.)

ANYWAY.

I was exhausted from the previous night.  Shaky, and experiencing the ‘anxiety/heart cough’.  Those who have anxiety know this.  It’s an involuntary action that seems to try to regulate the heart beat.

Called another boss and explained I needed time to get into work as I didn’t trust myself to get in the shower.  Dizzy, and felt like a new born lamb – wobbly on my feet.

Bottom line, ended up not going into work at all.  Rested a lot and recovered.

I get so frustrated with the anxiety.  I also get frustrated with the few people in my life who seem to think I choose to have these debilitating ‘spells’.

I do not choose this.

My heart is a horse of another color – and is pretty much managed with the digoxin.

Thing is though, because I do NOT choose the anxiety, I decided to put myself out there.  Out … There.  Eek.

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O.K.  So, onto the good stuff.

Yesterday I had plans with one of my dearest friends.  We were going to have breakfast.

Simple enough no?  Driving is hard for me – when I go outside of my comfort route.

I did it though.

Had a lovely time and rented a delicious meal. Lol.

(I got the veggie skillet – but it was still greasy, so, you get the reference, I won’t go more into that.)

At one point, my friend said this:

Her: I’m a terrible friend.  I don’t call, I don’t visit.

Me: No you’re not!  I know you love me, and I don’t call or visit either!

And truly, that saying – about friends who pick up right where they leave off is so true.  I don’t question her love for me – and I hope she doesn’t question mine.

Actually, she can’t lol!  She still works at the bank where we met so many years ago and every time I leave, in front of the entire room I say, “Bye for now, I love you.”

And she says it back.

_______________________________

Part two of the day.

Movie with another amazing friend.

When I met this guy – I felt an immediate pull.  His aura is so genuine and lovely.  He has many hidden talents and his authenticity is worn on his sleeve.  I knew I adored him after just a few chats.  Felt maternal and very happy to have found such an amazing soul.

We had plans to see Beauty and the Beast.

This is where things get funny.

I met him in the lobby of the theater.

(Another thing I love about him, he’s an ‘on time’ or ‘early’ person, like me.)

We get tickets and drinks and eagerly head to the theater room.

As soon as we enter and turn the corner to see the seats, I notice the back row pretty much filled (ok, maybe 8) with teens.

One says, “Hey, can you get me a drink?”

I didn’t think much of it, my eyes were still adjusting to the light and I figured he was talking to someone else.

Nope.

He was not.

I ignored this and we chose a seat behind a mom and her two little ones.

Then when two more teens came in and sat further up, the ‘gangstas’ threw a flip flop down at the newcomers.

“Why you sitting down there?”

Now I’m alert.

My friend and I decided to take bathroom breaks one at a time before the movie.  He went first.

Well.

While he was gone – things escalated a tad.

Now, I may be anxious, but I also have my moments of courage.

The back row was in full swing and when I heard one of them loudly toss the word ‘fuck’ around I whipped my head in their direction.

Me: HEY! There are little kids here!

Him: My bad – did you get me my chili cheese fries?

(Teen giggles from the peanut gallery)

Oh NO he didn’t.  What the actual hell?

Me: You want me to stay here or am I going to have to get up?

Silence.

My friend returned shortly after and mentioned he’d advised the lobby that there were some degenerates needing discipline.  After I emptied my hamster bladder, I did the same.

When I sat back down, the irony of the entire situation occurred to me.

These wanna be thugs were thugging at Beauty and the Beast!

Movie was amazing, I cried the minute the iconic ballroom scene began.  I remember thinking, “good thing Emma Watson has had so much experience acting with things that aren’t actually there.”

Then I had another thought, “what if wannabe thug has an older brother with a gun?”

But I did the right thing.

After all, this little Princess was there too. (Face blurred on purpose)

My friend and I left the movie and promised to see more together and after a hug said “Bye for now.”

Peopling worked out.

And today, with not even half a load of laundry, I stayed home loving on my pup, leaving only to grocery shop and pick up medicine.  And on the way home … Teared up a little at such a lovely weekend.

Musings from the Laundromat: Finger Lies and White Glove Cleaning edition

 

I peopled yesterday.

I SO peopled.

Made a return at a major store – found no replacement, went to another major store – this is after an uncomfortable drive to the first place.

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Woke up.

Bathroom.

Care for pets.

Pills.

Shower.

Thought of leaving brings on another need for bathroom.

The drive: “OMG, why are they going so fast?”  “Am I going too slow?” “I have to be in this lane.” “Are they mad at me?” “They’re not going to let me in if I don’t move now.”

Store.

Bathroom.

Get me out of here!

_________________

Last store – my heart was ready to come out of my chest.  I entered Safeway.

Wiped my cart with the sanitary thingy – reach into my purse for my pen (I always do a ‘tally’ as I go) and ‘POKE’ … And OUCH.

I pulled my hand out of my purse and … Blood.

A lot.

A trial size perfume spritzer had shattered and the ‘poke’ was a shard of glass.

I headed to customer service because A) I am NOT going home now without my provisions and B) I needed her to check my lottery scratcher tickets because I am blind as Clarice Starling in Buffalo Bill’s cellar these days.

So I’m standing there – dripping on not only the cart, but the floor, my clothes, anything in my midst.

Me: (placing, very calmly, scratcher tickets on the counter)  Um, do you have a band aid?

Her: Wow.  You’re bleeding pretty bad.

Me: Yeah.

Her: OK. (Scurries off for ‘things’)

Me: I’m so sorry.

Her: Don’t be sorry.  How did you do that?

Drip.  Drip.

Me: (Feeling woozy, trying not to bleed everywhere and becoming increasingly aware of how much I am) I, um, I  was by the dispenser, the thing ..

Her: The sanitizer?  You cut yourself on the wipe container?

Me: Yes.

LIAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Liar!

LIE!

“Do you want to file a claim?”

No, no I didn’t lol. Because it wasn’t the dispenser’s fault.

She kindly patched me up and yes, I had missed a ‘winner’.  $10 in my pocket and a band aid on my finger and I was off.

But what WAS their fault?  The barricades in the aisles.  Stock people, I know you have to stock,  but, damn!  It’s hard enough for me to be in the store at it’s best time (which I still haven’t figured out) but when I’m doing a grocery version of a maze/obstacle course that’s ridiculous.

I was so DONE with being out, SO done with peopling and so mad at myself for allowing the sweet customer service lady to believe the sanitizer dispenser attacked me.

The rest of the day I spent cleaning and cooking.

It’s time for my annual home inspection – or as I like to think of it, ‘intrusive visit where photographs are taken of all my belongings’.

I clean all the time, but this visit calls for the white glove kind of clean.

You know, all the things you don’t do all the time.  (Or, maybe it’s just me?) Like, removing and washing the floor vents, cleaning the top of the  fridge, cleaning under sinks and tossing items not used even once since last inspection.

I got most everything done except my bedroom.

I just can’t get into gear to do it!

We all have that one room everything that doesn’t belong anywhere else ends up right?  Well, that’s my bedroom.

And it really sucks the ‘nest zen’ right out of my budoire.

I’ll get to it eventually.  I have a deadline after all.  That always motivates me.

But for today … I’m going to chill out a little.

Luckily, I am done with outside errands and there’s no more peopling in Sunday’s forecast.

 

Fish Grandma and Cryptic Message Unveiled.

Last sentence I said out loud: “I don’t know what I’m doing, I have a shitload of stuff!”

Metaphor for my life lol.

But, in actuality, I was carrying my iPad, my phone, my keyboard and my coffee into my bedroom.

Lately, things have been pretty amazing as far as ‘amazing’ can go when you’re alone, your favorite person is terminal and you’re hundreds of miles away from your guy.

In a moment of vanity, may we acknowledge how insanely odd the ‘pause’ button makes us look?  LOL!  OK, done with that.

SO! (Other than the fact I need to get a haircut …)

Obviously the call was from my guy.  It’s getting harder and harder being in a long distance relationship.  But, also, think it suits both of us, and that’s kind of scary.

Am I going to be 70 waiting for his call?  Just happy to have my own space and look forward to a call?  OR, can we one day come together?  I know as much as you do.

As for my son.

They’re moving again in mid-July.  The love of his life is continuing her education to get her Masters.  I’m proud of them both, but, won’t lie (like I ever here) I wish he would find HIS niche.  His ‘thing’.  I didn’t for the longest time, and let’s face it, he’s been in a relationship longer than I ever have lol!  So I’ll just shut up about that.

Speaking of kids and futures, I discovered today I may be a grandma …

See the blobs?

I think eggs.  I was cleaning out the fish I inherited and didn’t scrub those.

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OK, so, now a big ‘reveal’.  The other night I posted a cryptic message on my Facebook.  I HATE when people do that!  But, I did it.  I mentioned I was giggling on the porch and couldn’t mention why.

Well, I’ll tell you now.

First, let’s look at this weed that grew outside my office – I wanted to capture it before the gardeners pulled it.  So beautiful.

AND we segue into … “One man’s weed is another man’s flower”.

Those that follow me know that I am fighting not only agoraphobia, but severe anxiety/panic disorder and a heart condition.

I do ok.

But, I was given some medical marijuana from someone with a card.

I was dubious and scared.  I mean, today’s pot is NOT what I used to use.

Back in the day I remember laughing until my belly hurt under the stars camping, having ingested pot brownies.

I remember what pot USED to be.

I had a bad time with it a year or so ago.   Too strong for me.  I couldn’t even move my limbs.

Well, THIS has made a difference.

It’s been about a month now.

I went from having 4+ attacks per week to maybe one every two weeks.

Able to not only drive to a shop (no, not while ON it – stays in the system I think) but go IN and do my shopping.

Also, sleeping a whole lot better.

Unfortunately, this is the last of it.  But, seriously, marijuana needs to be legal medicinally everywhere!

Much better than the 3 toxic pills I take twice a day!!!

I, personally, can’t afford to get approved or afford a card.  But, having experimented, I can say that it helped BIG time!

You know, with my “Shitload of stuff”.  Lol.

 

 

Turn the Page

This is the first Sunday I haven’t had to go to the laundromat.  My laundry basket was a third full, and, I was not going to muse a load and spend money on that.

Friday, I heard so many songs that resonated with me – the most important being, “Turn the Page” via Metallica.

I found myself lost in the lyrics and substantiating it with my anxiety disorder.  Let’s walk through this.

My life.

I get up.

I pee.

I take my meds.

I take my dog outside.

I come inside.

I feed all pets. (Butters plus my fish and Nic’s that he left)

I bathe and dress.

I take Butters out again, because she never goes the first time.

I watch some news.

I walk Butters again – just in case. Also, fix my lunch.

I walk out leaving cartoons on for my dog and say “gimme kisses and smisses”

Every. Single. Day.

Turn the page.


It’s fucking Groundhogs day!

But, I’m also diagnosed agoraphobic and have severe anxitey and panic disorder.

I have some comfort in repeated things.

I feel safe driving to work, being there, driving home.

I feel safe driving to the store – then … BOOM!

I’m lucky if I get through the shopping.

This might be too much information, but, if I’m helping just ONE person, I’m glad to share – my issue when I leave my house is like … Stomach flu.  I get INSTANT tummy troubles.  It manifests itself physically.

No joke.

So, I hear this song on Friday on my way home.  And it’s this.

I got this … Um, feel or glow or understanding the way I understood it.  I KNOW obviously what he’s talking about.  But, it SO resonated.

“You can think about the woman or the girls you knewthe night before”

For sure. Me. Knowing me. What I’m capable of being and who I am today.  Who I used to be.

“But your thoughts will soon be wandering the way they always do.”

Check.

“When you’re riding sixteen hours and there’s nothing much to do, and you don’t feel much like ridin’ you just wish the trip  was through.”

I’ve had those moments too.  Wanting, just … To be done.

“There I am, on the road again.”

There’s only so many places I can go.  I am terrified on big traffic highways.  My anxiety comes on and I can’t breathe, can’t see, can’t feel my limbs.  It’s serious.

Also speaks to my daily drive to work, which I CAN do.  But the repedeance  is bonkers.

“There I am up on stage.”

Yup.  With a mask and a smile and a positive attitude.

Me with makeup:image

Me, with nothing but Chapstick.

image

“Out there in the spotlight, you’re a million  miles away.  Every ounce of energy you try to give away.  As the sweat pours out your body, like the music that you play”

And, again, I’m exhausted every. Single. Day.  I am. And I know the source.

And people that say “Anxitey” or “Depression” isn’t real, seriously need to talk to THEIR doctors about it.

“GET OVER IT”

“IT’S ALL IN YOUR HEAD!”

Ok.

Let me take that route.

“Later in that evening, as you lie awake in bed, with the echoes from the amplifiers ringin” in your head, you smoke the day’s last cigarette remembering what she said.”