Archive for the ‘Neurotic Griping’ Category

That really should be the title of my blog. I’ve never been good at simply believing in myself. Kudos to the lucky people that are. Self-confidence is a rare gift. I apparently missed the occasion when that particular gift was passed out (I was probably late because I was ripping my closet apart in abject frustration, trying to find something presentable to wear). So instead, here I sit hovering around friends and loved ones like a compliment parasite, waiting to feed off the smallest molecule of positive reinforcement.

It’s sad really. They have better things to do with their time than give me silly pep talks, but oh how I need them, especially when life is particularly overwhelming, like now.

That’s why when the lady at the bank tells me she’s anxiously waiting for me to get Book 3 done, I feel a little less like a fraud. Maybe this whole writing thing isn’t a complete waste of time. Maybe someone out in the ethos is actually reading this drivel I post, and is not just some spammer going through the motions.

If so, I sincerely hope that my drivel is at least entertaining.

I know them, but they are not me. There are people who can not stand to be alone with their thoughts ever. They are the ones who are always living with a roommate, have lots of friends around all the time, are extremely social, and if they are alone, they’re reaching out remotely via text, email, phone call, carrier pigeon, etc. These are the people that “social networking” was created for.

Sometimes, I envy them. It must be nice to be able to make connections so easily, to be so free with yourself to others. I, however, can’t live like that. I need my space.

I love going for walks. I have the privilege to do that where I live.  There are trails everywhere, and many quiet, country dirt roads. I actually consider myself lucky when I can go for miles and not run into another person.

Sometimes, I think that sounds selfish. Maybe it is. I’m suppose to be a member of society, provide input, engage in dialogue for the common good. I’m suppose to voice my beliefs, be a part of the solution, do my part. I’m suppose to provide comfort, counsel, support, and love to my fellow man. In small, inconspicuous ways, I try, but it’s not something that comes naturally to me. I have a very tight web of people that get my genuine company, like it or not, and that’s usually about it.

Everyone else, well, they get the friendly but guarded version. And, whether I want to admit it or not, I need them. In order to make a living, put food on the table, and stay in good graces with my husband and the IRS, I need them to read my books and make a social connection with me, at least on an abstract level through my characters. If that’s how I connect, so be it.

I have gotten migraines…every single month without fail…since I was seventeen years old. If you’ve never had a migraine, you are the luckiest person on God’s green earth in my opinion. They suck. They suck hard. When they throb behind your eyeball insistently for hours on end, they suck giant, hairy donkey balls.

Over the counter meds just take the edge off for a short time. Prescription meds come with so many side effects, they make the migraine seem almost tolerable. I’m considering other avenues as I get older and braver. Pot works for glaucoma and chemo, right? The friend who comes to fold my bulletins at the church where I work sees an acupuncturist for her arthritis. I wonder how that would go? Would I look like that scary creature from “Hell Raiser?”

If the “every month” description wasn’t obvious enough for you, I get the migraines because, well, I’m a woman. It comes with all the other wonders of being a woman, like cramps, bloating, spontaneous acne, mood swings like a meth-addled spider monkey, and, of course, the “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” in my pants( or Scream, or Nightmare on Elm Street, or Saw…Put your favorite gory, bloody movie here). All those things have their own level of suckiness, but they pale in comparison to the migraine.

Not only does my head hurt, usually behind the eyeball, but light and sound exacerbate the pain, and just in case that wasn’t enough, when it gets bad, it starts to make me feel nauseous too. Usually, it mercifully occurs in the evening, and I can just go to bed and wait (unless I’m working nights, then out come the donkey balls). On extra special months, I’ll get up to three in a row. Sometimes they wait until all the other crap is over and done, so nothing steals their thunder.

I can be anthropomorphic with my migraine because it honestly feels like a demon that plagues my brain. If only that were really true. Then I could just get a good ol’ exorcism and be done with it. “The Power of Christ commands you!” (God that was a scary movie!). Lobotomy’s are bad, right?

I’ve been told my type of migraine (I’m not using the “M” or the “P” word, and you can’t make me) is caused by the increase, and then swift decrease, in estrogen, doing something screwy with brain chemicals. That’s why the MAOI drugs don’t work. “All you can do is mask the symptoms.” and “take more Excedrine.”

Or pull out all the lady parts? It’s not like anyone can see them. Who would notice? Don’t mind me. I’m just babbling because my head hurts so f%#cking much!