“Drinking bourbon and avoiding housework on a Sunday afternoon is no way to go through life, son. “
This is the circular thought I’m having on a Sunday afternoon. It’s accompanied by the song SOB by Nathanial Rateliff and the Night Sweats.
You know how people say that we all have some natural talent? Shouldn’t I have found this by now?
Okay, to those of you who I love like frozen crazy who are going to say this writing thing is it…I am saying to you…HAHAHAHAHAFUCKINGHAHAHAHA. All I do is write down whatever I am thinking and then delete the 90% that is just batshit crazy. It’s not a talent, it’s a release that I am pretty sure keeps me functional.
Follow your bliss!
My bliss is watching Netflix, mentally planning ways to get my house ready to sell, and then not doing it. It might also include impure thoughts about Sam and Dean Winchester. I really don’t think the money is going to follow that particular bliss. I could be wrong, but I don’t think so.
On the other hand, I do have a lot to not panic over right now.
So, if you are a regular reader, then you know 2016 has been kicking our ass. You know that Randy had surgery and then some scary fucking complications. He’s still being treated. We have had a drainage tube with a bag keeping us company for over a month now. We really thought it was coming out last Thursday, but alas, the bag stays until next week. Even then, we’re not holding our breath. We’ve learned that will just make us blue in the face.
Randy calls one of his grandchildren “mad dog”. She happened to be here visiting when Randy first got sick. He let her decorate and name his drain bag, mad bag.
I am goddamn sick of mad bag. The Sponge Bob stickers and googly eyes make it a little easier to take. But still, really goddamn sick of mad bag. And if I am sick of it, I can only imagine how done Randy is with mad bag.
Still, Randy is here. He’s home and he’s starting to look like himself again. He also got on my nerves today, so I’m pretty sure that means he’s nearly himself again. Also, he’s lost that “weak and agreeable like a sick kitten” glow.
We had a company party at my work at the end of last month. Some pretty awesome prizes are given away at this party and I won the second largest prize of the night, which was a fuck ton of money to spend at our store. We’re finally getting some grown up furniture.
I have to focus on the positive right now, it’s a self preservation thing.
I knew this was coming.
I was afraid that the stress of Randy’s illness would catch up with me. My defenses were down and I feared I’d end up with the West Nile Monkey Pox or something. Either that, or I’d have an anxiety tsunami.
You guys, I should have at least opened an umbrella or something.
My anxiety has exploded over the past few weeks. Something had to give. I get that.
This has been particularly bad and terribly fatalistic. I won’t go into details because its just fucking boring. Normal, run of the mill anxiety.
Doesn’t mean it’s not kicking my ass, though.
I have spent a fair amount of time over the past few weeks running through worst case scenario anxiety and how following my bliss could bail us out at the last minute.
So far, I haven’t come up with a single happy ending. I’m okay with that. If I could just get through the day without getting choked on my anxious thoughts, then I would forgo the happy ending. Get your mind out of the gutter. I didn’t mean that kind of “happy ending”.
I’ve been meaning to get a new tattoo for a few years now. I keep putting it off.
My birthday is in a week and a half. Perhaps I need to give this tattoo to myself for my birthday.
Under the inside ankle of my right foot, I am going to have the words “Don’t Panic” tattooed in a typewriter font.
It will serve both as an homage to Douglas Adams and as a reminder.
Everything will be okay.
Oh, and I can’t tell you how perfect this picture on this post is. I have recurring anxiety dreams that revolve around green, murky water. The water can be still and I submerge, or it comes at me in a wave. This picture perfectly shows my anxiety water waves. I have no idea why I find the image oddly comforting.
Photo courtesy of Austin Schmid