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Turrets and teeth
I did something today I haven’t done in the two years I’ve been at my current job. I called in sick. Well, I emailed in sick to be accurate.
While the frequency of my mouth pain has substantially subsided, it still comes out of nowhere and WHAM! Instant debilitation.
I did not want to stray far from my heating pad and, until the antibiotics kick in, am only finding relief ultimately from pain pills that I should not be taking and driving.
Nor should I be making calculated decisions, sitting upright or operating heavy machinery (like a work computer – my home one doesn’t count, if I type something wrong here, it’s not going to affect the outcome of a home purchase.)
I’m also in a bit of a dark place.
I think when we’re not feeling well, we’re more susceptible to letting our demons in. I’ve been cranky and sad, bitter and broody. I counter every thought in my head with a chastising and put myself in a time-out. I’m aware of the bullshit that is going through my head and I know that it stems from not feeling well.
It’s still scary though.
I do not like not feeling like ‘myself’. Funny, considering this is the same body that craved that exact result for so many years.
I’ve also come to the conclusion that funny and happy are much more appealing topics than serious or sad ones.
To healthy people anyway.
So instead of feeling slighted that when I got few responses to the posts that only consisted of updates about how miserable I was feeling – I should be ecstatic that I have healthy people in my life.
Turn it around.
That’s what I’ve been doing during some darker moments.
I felt like a monster yesterday and this morning when I could imagine putting a bullet through my dog’s head as she barked non-stop out of the window.
I had to pick through that. I know I could never – would never do such a thing. I walk around bugs on the ground for crying out loud!
But as I lay on the couch, trying to rest – trying to gain some ground on my return to ‘me’, I didn’t want to hear one more yap.
Turn it around.
She’s guarding her family. Albeit, from an innocuous car driving by the house or perhaps a feral rabbit hopping by the fence, but for all intents and purposes, she is barking for good.
So I gave her a squeaky toy and a chewy treat, not a bullet.
I’ve also been scared.
That first night – the worst night – I knew there was no one to turn to. No one to step up and take the lead. No one to take care of me.
This is by my own choosing, I know this. But the older I get, the harder it is ‘going it alone’.
It’s not fair that my son had to play that role.
He put his arms around me on the couch as I sobbed out in pain and rocked me back and forth.
It reminded me of the book ‘Love you Forever’. When the grown man comes to his ailing, old mother and sings her the song she sang to him so many times.
He is not a grown man.
But he intuitively knew what was happening was no joke – and I needed comfort.
This past weekend he went to the grocery store for me, he brought me soft food and he was kind and sweet and loving.
A friend stopped by, not even knowing exactly where I lived – but she found my car after driving around.
So, I know there are people I can reach out to – but it’s very, very hard for me to do.
I can’t look someone in the eye and say “I need help”.
I use my words. My written words – to express how I’m feeling.
It’s cathartic and feels safe. I don’t have to watch body language or facial expressions and have my warped sense of pride spit out an inaccurate reading.
My written words I trust. I’ve always been able to say what I want to say on paper – or now, a screen.
What I want to say is, I need people. I am scared of doing everything alone and I can’t do it all. I don’t want to.
My pride has got in the way for years.
I know this. But I don’t know what to do about it.
I had multiple people offer to loan me the money for the dental procedure – but I turned them all down. I didn’t want to owe my friends money. And when something isn’t hurting, it’s very easy to prioritize something else.
I’ve come a long way. But there’s a hard-wired need to take care of things by myself. Not depend on anyone. Who knows why. That’s a whole couch session. Let down in the past, abandonment, or – letting someone help me and having it lorded over me. A number of reasons.
But, I have proven I’m self-sufficient to a point of selfishness.
Something to think about.
I need to decide to let people in. There are so many amazing souls in my life that I keep back behind a line I have drawn in my sand.
I didn’t just build a wall, I built a tower. I locked myself inside of it and only rapelled down to go to work or fetch supplies.
I kept my son in there too – sheltered and watching me guard my self-imposed prison – Queen of my castle.
Absolutely ridiculous.
You know, in dreams, teeth represent anxieties and problems. Perhaps in ignoring my anxieties until they hurt so much and knocked me on my arse, I’ve finally got the chance to fix them.
Once I have this problem pulled, I’ll work on getting the rest of me healthy.
My private public anxiety
Wow! Did not anticipate the horrible sensation I experienced being outside the house today.
I leave the house everyday – I am not afraid to do so.
For the past few years though, I’ve become increasingly uncomfortable in public places.
Today, I grabbed my purse, my keys – headed to the bank to withdraw my rent money.
Had to stop and get gas first. I knew, on the way to the gas station I was already feeling uncomfortable.
I don’t live in a high traffic area, but as I turned onto the main road, I may as well have been merging onto a freeway during rush hour in LA as far as my brain was concerned.
The only way I can explain the sensation is … you know when you’ve been sick for a few days? I mean, really sick – in bed sick. Then you are testing your land legs for the first time, needing to go out.
You feel disconnected from your body, but hyper aware and jumpy?
That’s how I feel lately in public places, including the road.
After the bank, I killed some time before my property management company opened by running into Walmart to pay off some of the Christmas lay away.
That picture is how the store felt, but it wasn’t that busy. I didn’t stop and look at the Christmas aisles, I headed straight for the lay away counter, then right to an item I knew I wanted to get for my mom.
I couldn’t have checked out fast enough.
Left the parking lot wanting to go home – but the whole point of the trip was to pay the rent.
Mission accomplished, but by then my nerves were so on edge I decided against a trip to the post office to get stamps.
I just wanted to come home.
What is going on with me? I was diagnosed with PTSD a while back, I’m wondering if it’s related to that, but if it is, why is it manifesting NOW?
I have never felt happier or more content?
You know, my crazy cat lady plan for the future just seems to be coming right along.
I have to go to the grocery store now. I’m taking Nic with me. I need an outing buddy.
You down with OCD? “Yeah! You know me!”
When I was just a wee girl, I’d avoid cracks in the pavement. We’ve all done that right? After all, I did not want to arrive home to find my mum with a sudden and pretty serious back injury. Ok, pretty normal.
Things evolved. To get the nerve up to jump from a diving board, or do anything I was scared to do, a little voice in my head would inform me that if I didn’t do it by the count of three – ‘your mum will die!’. Wow! Talk about escalating the consequences!
Walking home in the dark? “If that car passes you before you reach the lamp-post, your mum will die”. GULP! I must have looked like a crazed sprinting deer in those cars headlights.
Obviously ‘it’ had it in for my mum. ‘It’ knew my weaknesses and played upon them.
As I got older, I reasoned with myself that these were irrational behaviors. SO – my mind came up with fun new ones! JOY!
I got stuck for a while doing a ‘teeth’ thing. (Not as bad as Poe in “Berenice”).
I’d have to click my teeth together in a quick bite action then make a little sound in my throat. Next came having to blow into glasses to make sure there was no dust inside before using it as a vessel.
(To be fair, that one might actually have spawned from an occasion there was actual dust in a glass I had selected from the cupboard – who knows).
Room messy? That’s OK. But God forbid one drawer be open even one inch. I could be completely comfortable, deliciously sleepy and no matter what – I’d have to climb out of bed and close the drawer. Sometimes more than one drawer was actually ajar, but ‘it’ fixated on just the one. (does ‘ajar’ apply to drawers, or is that just doors?).
I conquered the tooth thing, stopped making the little noise in my throat and weaned myself off of blowing into clean glasses. It was pretty excruciating to be honest. But I did it.
‘It’ wasn’t amused. Next came having to tap my bottom teeth on the underside of a glass before taking a drink. 3 times. AND in a certain pattern. 1 … 2,3. UG. Hey, at least I hadn’t needed to blow in it before the tap ritual!
That one fizzled out over time. (took the teen years to adulthood but hey! Better late than never).
“Must touch” was next.
One example, when I worked for a bank here in town , I HAD to touch a certain ficus leaf every time I passed it. I tried hiding it at first, then realized everyone knew and by then, no one actually cared. They were used to me and my oddness.
I got over that one too. I’m not sure if it was ever actual OCD – or stress related – or what, but one thing I’ve always had issues with is my affinity for inanimate objects.
Oh yeah, at the office, at home, in the yard … public places. (I’m the one that put the box back on the shelf that you stepped over in the grocery store, you’re welcome).
Rewind to the ‘wee girl’ again. I HAD to have all of my stuffed animals on the bed. Not for a cozy security reason, but because I didn’t want to hurt any of their feelings by not choosing them. I could have smothered in the night there were so many!! No joke! But, if I left any of them out, I just knew they’d come alive in the night and kill me.
As I got older, the empathy part grew (thankfully not so much the fear that objects were going to kill me).
Food: ALL items in a can must come out of said can.
How is that poor lone baked bean going to feel if it’s friends get to be part of dinner and achieve their destiny – while it was grown, chosen, processed, packaged – only to land in the garbage, in the can??!!
It gets worse. If I touch a piece of paper, oh, let’s say a fax cover sheet, then let’s say I’m interrupted and accidentally pull another slice of paper out, I’m screwed.
That first sheet thought IT was going to be used!! And now, the second piece is all excited thinking it’s the chosen one. ARG!!!!!!!!!!!
I have literally had to take two pieces of paper, (or envelopes, or folders) out to a co-worker to pick for me.
I still feel awful for the one that didn’t get picked, but a lot less anxious.
The good news is, this madness seems to wax and wane.
I can usually override the need to follow through with rituals. OK, once in a blue moon I still tap my teeth on a cup or glass, but usually only when I’m stressed.
And it’s perfectly normal to hug my son 3 times, give him 3 air kisses, in sets of 3 every night – right??
And it’s totally nothing to worry about that when I’m standing outside, watching as he walks up the road on the way to the bus stop, he turns to wave 3 times …
Noooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!








