Thursday Thoughts From the Throne

Bones at the American Museum of Natural History in NYC
At first I told myself I would NOT write a grumbly post-Halloween post. I held off for a good whole week and a few days but here I am on the toilet stewing about it still and so I feel compelled to just spill my guts, literally and figuratively…

In case you were ever unsure, an adult taking their dog trick or treating is NOT cute if the adult is collecting candy, not wearing a costume, and there are no kids around. If you are an adult who does this, stop. Go ahead and dress up your dog or pup or hamster or whatever pet you can coax into a costume without getting your eyes clawed out and feel free to take a walk through the neighborhood. Show off. Just don’t go begging for candy. 

Second, rollling an infant around in a stroller asking for candy is on par with the pet thing. Sure, they are cute. Feel free to walk around and show them off. But trying to roll a stroller up my front steps is dangerous and we both know that bag of snickers and gobstoppers is not for anyone but you. Buy your own damn candy!

Kids with two bags collecting for a mysterious “ill” sibling…. yeah. If your brother really got sick and you want to do something truly noble, share your own candy half and half. THAT demonstrates love and sacrifice and I won’t be left wondering if that sibling really exists or not as you giggle while walking away with your two heavily laden bags.

And lastly, if you are a kid who shows up at the end of the night when my candy is running low, you may very well end up with a sucker or a box of Nerds because that is all I have left. You don’t like that? Don’t throw the candy on the ground and mutter some expletive as you storm off. I just gave out over 2,000 pieces of candy and you not liking the fact that I am out of chocolate reflects poorly on you, not me.

Ah…. Now that feels better!

Advertisements

The Apple and The Tree

I don’t usually post on Mondays anymore because the clinic is usually crazy but I did want to reblog this post from Twindaddy at Mental Defecation. Typically I don’t get a ton of people popping over to read reblogs but I would encourage you to hit the link on this one.

Mental Defecation

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, the old saying goes. It’s an obvious statement, of course. Unless an apple tree is at the top of a hill any apple that falls from it isn’t going far at all.

My tree has dropped three apples, so to speak. None of them have fallen far from the tree. To be frank, I’d bet money the genetic engineers of Jurassic Park cloned my “apples” directly from me if I didn’t know better. I can see my likeness in their jokes, their intelligence, their behaviors, and their personalities. But nothing quite dissected how similar we are until I read a short essay today.

I was talking with Baby B about meds and school when he mentioned he’d finished an essay he needed to turn in for English tomorrow was finished. I inquired more about it and found out that the topic he’d…

View original post 1,308 more words

Lift

Bomber

There are times when the anxiety overwhelms. Pressure on my chest. Can’t breathe. A dysphoric and irrational sense of impending doom falls like a curtain, separating me from the rest of the world.

I need to move, to escape. 

But I can’t. 

Why? Why now?

It comes in phases. There are times when I fly through the day, a smile inside and out. I feel the joy. I am the joy.

And then? The darkness descends.

You aren’t good enough or smart enough. Someone is going to figure it out. Then everyone will know your secret. You don’t belong here.

I can’t focus. I type words that aren’t right and don’t make any sense. I cannot follow the conversations people try to have with me. My brain is paralyzed. No. My brain is in overdrive running from one imagined catastrophe to the next. I cannot sleep because I cannot make it stop.

“Doc, it’s like you know me. How do you understand it so well when I am not even sure how to describe everything?”

Because I am you.

Sometimes there is good reason for it, an event which serves as trigger. Like a supoena to testify in a patient’s lawsuit against an multi billion dollar international corporation. Sometimes there are dozens of good reasons for it. Being on call, stressful patients, behavior issues at school with my kids, extended family conflict, pressure from the suits, my virtual desktop at work is overflowing, the WordPress app reader is frizzing out again and I am missing posts, … Very often, though, there is no good reason at all.

It is then that the pill calls to me.

Die to live another day…

I keep a bottle with my name on it. Not to literally kill myself. Just to make life easier. Kill the anxiety. End the suffering. A pill a day to make the anxiety go away.

But I am a coward it turns out. I am not good at taking pills. I try to do other things. I take a hike in the woods. Being among the trees often helps. Instead, I get a bad case of poison ivy. I try attending an opera, but I can’t enjoy that because of the itching from the poison ivy. I buy a new skirt but it doesn’t fit because of the steroids for the poison ivy. I want to hug my kids…. hugs from my kids often helps… but good squeezes set off the itching again.

All I can do is laugh. There is nothing else left to do.

Suddenly I am rising up out of the abyss. 

Thursday Thoughts From the Throne #7

Clock feature in a small park in NYC

Is the day over? No?

Phew!

Made it. 

My colon has been awfully out of whack this week. So has my running schedule, come to think of it…

So, most of the time I try to avoid talking politics and religion with my patients and my friends. There are only a few trusted people I feel I can have a rational conversation with. Today, though, I ran across one of those people who was trying to convince me that my theology was misguided and that abortion was wrong in all circumstances. Even in the case of an 11 year old girl who was molested by her uncle.

Don’t get me wrong, I like this guy. He is a good man, even if we fundamentally disagree. However, he made a comment about prayer in school that got my dander up. Specifically he said that Christian prayers only should open every school day and that more of it probably would have prevented the Las Vegas shooter from killing all of those people.

Um. No.

I am going to skip the theology question and the abortion issue and hit on that school prayer statement.

Being prayed at is not the thing that prevents hurting people from lashing out. Love does. Good parents who try to do right by their kids and their spouses, fellow human beings who show kindness…. these are the things that prevent damaged people. 

Loving people who need it is awfully darn hard. 

I am not saying don’t pray. Go ahead and pray. I pray. Prayer is powerful. Prayer can help you love, help you find kindness when you don’t think there is any left inside of you. Here’s the thing, though: Don’t you ever think for one minute that your prayer means you have done your duty and your responsibility to other people stops there. No. You have to physically reach outside of yourself and help those around you or you are just saying empty words. 

I used to be that person, the one for whom the world was black and white. No amount of arguing or reasoning could change my mind. I was so full of anger back then. Why doesn’t everyone see the logic that I see? Life had to show me the all of the other shades of gray and the myriad of vibrant colors that make up this world. It had to show me that I am not as smart as I thought I was. 

Life is still teaching me.

Kind of makes me wonder what I will think of this post in ten years…

Thursday Thoughts From the Throne #5

Mission door in San Antonio

I have been pondering this from the toilet for a long time now:

You know what I hate? Items that have what they are emblazoned upon them. Like a pillow that has “pillow” in huge letters written across it. Or a towel that says, “towel”. Granted, before I have enough coffee to clear my sleep deprived brain, towelling off with my pillow after a hot shower is not entirely implausible…. but still. Seems like if I *did* do something like that I would kind of deserve the subsequent damp bedding, you know?

So every morning I blow dry my hair while standing bent over in front of a cream colored canvas “hamper” hamper. I am compelled to roll my eyes at it every morning, although the “hamper” hamper certainly never seems to appear to have its feelings hurt. The effect of eye rolling is dulled somewhat when done upside down. 

I surely do hate the thing and yet principle dictates that I cannot just toss it out until it wears out. I needed something collapsible and lightweight for lugging large amounts of laundry downstairs (I only do laundry once a week because….laundry) and it was the only option at the time at the local Target store. Mind you, the purchase was made before an Amazon Prime membership opened up a whole new fabulous world of shopping variety delivered to my front doorstep at the touch of a screen. Wicker is cute but it is expensive, heavier, and it dang sure does not last long with repeated trips up and down stairs but you know what? Cream colored canvas “hamper” hampers apparently DO last.

For years. 

*****************************************

Feel free to join in with your own Thoughts From the Throne. Steve Still Standing did, of sorts. Check it out

And since apparently Thursdays are door days all over the blogosphere, I decided to throw in a door for your viewing enjoyment.

Thursday Thoughts From the Throne #1

Thomas Fuller quote over NYC bridge

If you will recall my corny post from last month, Twindaddy of Mental Defecation correctly deduced that I had written that post while sitting on the toilet. Truth be told, I do a lot of blogging from the potty. Clearing the bowels tends to clear the mind. In the comments Twindaddy graciously offered to allow me to use “Thoughts from the Throne” which was a recurring feature on a previous blog. I love alliteration. Alliteration is sexy. 

So I am going to try to make this a recurring feature. It may not be every week, but from time to time you may see this title and I wanted you all to know where it came from. 

Also, you should know the above image was created using Pixlr. Desley Jane at Musings of a Frequent Flying Scientist did a post on this recently. I have found that it is addictive…. 

Blow

Sailboat in the Hudson Bay

“How much time are you spending on social media?” 

“Well, I stopped completely until about a week ago. I’m easing back into it.”

“Really? You stopped it all? Completely?” I tried to keep the suspicion out of my voice.

“Yeah. For about six months.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t like how it made me feel.” There was real, actual eye contact, no phone in sight. 

“Now that you are back at it, what do you think? Does it make you feel good?”

“No.”

“So what do you think you are going to do?”

“We’ll see.” She shrugged. “Maybe I’ll pull the plug again.”

That, folks, is a kid who is going to be all right…

Worn

Interior, Metropolitan Museum of Art

Every year around this date I especially find myself marveling at love…

Love that is gained and lost, and found again. Love that is unrequited and unrewarded and yet still persists. Love that claws its way through the heart and lodges itself there against all logic and stays regardless of physical presence or absence. Love that endures despite being utterly spent, never quite reaching the point where it simply cannot love anymore. 

Lonely love.

Brilliant love.

Eternal love.

For over twenty years I have loved this love. At times gingerly, even tentatively, and at other times fiercely and with conviction. Is it more valuable for bearing all of the scars and scuff marks, the wear and tear of time and hurt? Is it more precious for simply surviving?

Perhaps….

But then, all love is precious.