The Tediousness of an Enormous Life

I have so many things that I need to be doing and I find myself at 4 am wishing to find some way to blot out the enormity of it all.  Sometimes I feel as if my life is strangling all the creativity and goodness out of me.  I would like to say that I am more the optimist and look at life as if the glass were half full, but lately I don't think that would be the direction my thoughts take.  What I mean to say is that I am more on the offense than I have ever been in my life.  I feel most anxiety bases itself around the assumption that for every good thing I accomplish, there is an epic failure waiting patiently to manifest itself directly in the path of my self proclaimed happiness.  I resent this.  I feel so much pressure of this enormous responsibility I willingly embrace as my day to day life.  I want to do so many good things.  I have miles of ideas that seem to be swallowed up by the dutifulness of responsibility.  I wish I could just tell the entire world to go fuck off for just a few days and turn itself without me.  Which means, why must I be responsible for everything and why do I give a damn about things that WILL NOT HAPPEN unless I do them?  Where is the happiness in that?  I don't know and I'm losing patience with myself because multitasking has redefined itself for me.  All it means is doing ten things half-assed until I get time to do it right and that is redundant and idiotic.  Something has got to give and I am feeling as if I should hold out a cup and stand on corners and shake it.  Alas pride and duty doesn't allow for such paltry sacrifices of dignity, but occasionally at 4 am, I wish I were that shameless.

So I will leave now because I must get back to answering emails, paying bills, sorting out my computer issues and praying I won't fold under pressure of dance tomorrow.  I've been asked to choose music that defines me and the disco ball that is me feels this task is impossible.  Ask for the moon instead.  I might be able to achieve that.  It feels more attainable than finding my alter ego.  I want to ask the dance teacher.... which one do you want?  

The Stigma Surrounding Being Medicated

Hello.  My name is Twotablesnotime and I am medicated.  I have been medicated since 2002 when my sister Lynn passed away from an overdose of Oxycontin.  The horror of watching my sister die for a week was too much for me.  I circled the drain self medicating and finally landed myself in a psychiatrist's office.  Then the merry-go-round of prescription drugs began.  I don't know which is worse,  the dangers of street drugs or a doctor attempting to find the perfect recipe using me as a main ingredient.  I had a lot of tests done.  That was when words like ADD, OCD, PSD and Bi-Polar whirled around me.

It was misery.  Coping with loss and attempting sanity.  Then getting pregnant and having to go cold turkey was torture.  If there is such a thing as hell, it is being trapped inside your head and not being able to cry out.  I suffered through that without telling my husband how horrible it really was and how close a friend suicide seemed to be.  I just wanted it to stop.  However, I wanted to be a mom more.

There is a stigma attached to being medicated.  Truly.  I have asthma and severe allergies.  I went to emergency care over an asthma attack and the doctor tried to tell me it was in my head.  Can I just say he looked at my chart and saw my medications and said this?  I called him a worm and told him it took me all night to get where I was and not to fucking tell me what he thinks is in my damned head.  Then I guess he saw I had insurance and wanted to run a battery of tests on me.  This is where I told him to basically go fuck himself and that I was leaving.  How insulting can a person be?

Another doctor, my podiatrist took anxiety personally.  How dare I cry in her presence.  How dare I be anxious.  Lady there is nothing wrong with me other than the fact my foot hurts and I waited an hour to see you and I think you are a sadist because there are no stools in the waiting room to prop my feet on.

Which leads me to the whole reason I'm writing about this.  I just called about having my prescription written for pickup early since its due while I'm on vacation.  I was told my voodoo doctor refused this.  I was ok with that until I was informed that more than likely I won't get a refill until January.  So I must go a whole month without my medication.  WTF?  I have been a patient for ten years.  This is bullshit.

So now I'm freaking out that I won't be me for a month because its too bad my doctor won't see me.  My head doctor.  How am I supposed to cope?  Good luck with that Faye.  Bite down hard on the shit sandwich.

Say ummm and thank you.

Beauty of Uniqueness: Collection Reflection

I am excited about a recent eBay win.  I didn't think that I would win when I bid, and usually those are the types of auctions I tend to open my email and find 'Pay Now' invoices.  You see, I have an eclectic love of glass.  No, I'm not that Waterford Crystal kind of girl.  I love the way light shines through glass.  It's mesmerizing.

 

I love the artistry it takes for someone to just take a lump of nothing and make it into something spectacular.  So I'll talk about my collections.

 

I collect porcelain dogs and cats.  The little ones made for shadow boxes.  Some expensive, others, not so much.  I've been collecting them since I was ten or so.  I can't tell you how many I have, but I know it's probably more than a couple hundred.  I'm trying to find something to showcase them in that keeps dust and fingers out.  Right now they are all lovingly tucked away in boxes waiting for the day I find that perfect way to keep them safe.

 

Then there's hand blown glass balls for my Christmas tree.  There's nothing like white lights shining through them.  My Christmas tree is two things:  glass balls and birds.  I try to add a new one each year.

 

My Christmas tree of Birds and Light

 

Moving ahead, my favorite of all my glass and porcelain collections has to be my bottles.  I collect vintage bottles from the sixties and seventies.  The ones with glass stoppers.  They are to be the centerpiece of my new living room I'm putting together.  I have a rug from Capel Rugs that just happens to match all the colors of my bottles and it will be a challenge to shelf all of them and tie my living room together.

 

So back to my eBay win.  I won a kaleidoscope made by Sheryl Koch.  It is magnificent.  I had to tell my husband I won it and I am still in awe of the fact that I did.

 

I have this vision for my living room.  I have custom twenty two foot long window.  My husband replaced all our windows when we bought our house, and that long window lets in amazing light.  I plan to fill that room with rainbows of color and happiness.  Mostly of silicon base.

 

Assimilation is Futile! You will be Resistant - huh?

Damn.  I am going through my CDs and now realize I have two separate time zones in my life in these little shiny disks.  College.  Wow.  I used to sleep more then.. and damn, I own way too many Kenny G albums than doctors recommend. (*SNORT* LAUGH* GUFFAW*)  AND sounds of Nature?  Enya?  Oh Faye.  (*GIGGLE*) tranquility was musically induced.  I have envy of the me before the other me.  Making sense?  I hope not.

 

Then with much work, HOLY CRAP.  AK 1200... Madame Mercury...I vibrated my house and added two more days of music to my disk drive.  Oh yeah, I hate Apple and iTunes.  Useless program that powers my iPod.  Oh well, I engaged the machine.  (PLLTTTT!)

 

I even managed to pull one special CDR back from the dead.  Hemisphere.  Then sat and dug through my records to label the tracks.  What a time in my life. 

 

(Still alive!)

 

I turned on the amp and spun the first six tracks of Madame Mercury and sit here basking in the glow of HELL YEAH, I OWN these records.

 

*Bangarang*

 

Going to go see Cyndi Lauper next week.  I happen to have that Barbie.

 

IT's FANTASTIC!

 

Tying Knots in Every Aspect

I have become nimble in the art of tying things into knots.  I'm teaching my daughter the art of friendship bracelet making.  Upon looking through my craft hoard, I came across some black cord that gave me an idea to replace some missing belts from a few of my robes.  So wow, I learned how to braid a five strand braid.  Excellent belt for black robe.  Nattie is wearing a blue dress this morning.  Found a video on how to tie a bow using two fingers.  Pretty impressive.  Was looking at craft toys for Nattie.  Found a gadget that braids cords.  Cut my own stencil and used yarn to sport yet another braided creation that I'm pretty sure my daughter can master easily.  Sounds pretty fidgety doesn't it?  Why don't we throw in some felt pom-pom hair bows too...modified with a felt flower in the center and I made a sunflower.  I think I'll attach that to a headband sometime.

 

All this knot tying has been fun, but I really wish sleep would prevail.  I'm raging an inner argument with myself over values.  It seems monumental to even unravel the mystery of mixed feelings and unease a dear friend triggers whenever we speak these days.

 

I cannot sit quietly.  My friend violates the moral standards I hold near to my heart, and I realize the sensation as repugnance.  Dislike.  Anger.  Hurt.  Then bitterness..as I see the effects cascade into my life.. just because I am within range and sensitivity.

 

I cannot settle.  Settling means loss of dreams and ideals.  Sparks and creation die within the strangling hold of being less than I choose to be.  This will hurt.

 

Whether we want to admit it or not, other people's lives affect us on some level.  I cannot ignore how I feel.  This person, just by association, makes the past crash into my now and Zen.

 

The more I listen to myself, the more I see the forest.  I must fell a tree.  It is obstructing growth.

 

What to say and what to do?  Be myself.  Breathe.  Sleep will come when the dust settles.  Who knows?  Maybe the tree will grow back and surprise me.

 

Magic thinks.

Hopes.