Existing in Pain – Daily Rant 2 Days Late

July 15, 2011

Note: I wrote this on Friday but haven’t had the chance to post it. I’ll give you an update at the end.

Woke up way too early. Trouble breathing. Asthma? Then the stomach turned and I had to go. To the bathroom. Funny. I have no bath but I call it the bathroom. I went. Felt a little better.

Face hurt. A little at first. It always starts with a little. It got worse.

Trouble breathing. I was smoking. Maybe I smoke too much. Then the racing thoughts and the heart followed. I made coffee. Good for asthma. I heard. I heard a lot of things so I drank coffee and a lot of water with my 4 morning meds. The stomach and heart beating anxiety kicked in as I tried to watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

I had to be somewhere to help a friend with a ride this morning. The meds were kicking in. I started to feel a little better as I got dressed and mapped the address of my friend. The breathing was like hyper ventilating. It came and went. It went when the pills kicked in. Pills. Have to take ‘em if I don’t want pain or anxiety. I did.

I got a text just as I was psyching myself up for a long ride. It was my friend’s boyfriend canceling the ride I was to give. The long trip. Over. Now I can stay home and try and relax. Or feel pain and anxiety.

It goes away eventually. Drugs kick in. Feel better. Wear off. Feel worse.

Need a nap. No nap. I guess the stress is up there. Anxiety.

Watched a couple of movies. Did a few tings on the internet. Hurt. Can’t breathe.

All over the place. God. Bad. Breathe freely. Breathe naturally. Breathe short and slow. Loss of breath. Chest pain. Face pain. It’s all running together.

I look up the symptoms and talk to friends that have similar conditions. They confirm that it’s just a panic attack. Combined with my face pain. It hurts.

Don’t want to complain. Complain. Complaints. Revealing my pain to you and everyone else is  . . .  like getting a mew therapist.

Just repeating my day out loud. No answers. Just venting.

Conclusions come after solutions after diagnosis. Am I sure it’s not just  another panic attack in a way I haven’t experienced.

Experienced. Weird pain. Something different.

Do I need a hospital or not?  Go to bed and sleep. Get up early tomorrow to do some work for my uncle.

Good. I’m falling asleep as I write this.

Note: Aftermath- I was hoping that a good night sleep would be the cure. It wasn’t. I woke up at 6:30 am with the deep breaths and panic for no reason. I was tired but that was normal. I drank less coffee and took my morning meds, More face pain. I took pain pills. Everything kicked in by the time I got to help my Uncle at cleaning offices. I was just tired from all of the pain and anxiety the day before. I made it through the work hours. Then I had to go home shower etc and pick up a model for a photography project. It was an all day event but now and then I felt the anxiety and shortness of breath but had to keep going and took anxiety meds. I got through the day and went to sleep early. Woke up today feeling a little bit of the breath thing and anxiety and it slowly went away and I helped my Uncle again and now I just feel emotionally hungover. Tired blah. I made it.

A Mexican Stole my Lunch Today

June 24, 2010

I wrote this Tuesday, June 15, 2004 Sometimes I really enjoy going through old writings.

I rolled over in my nylon mesh underwear as she stood there laughing at me. I felt silly and pathetic. Candice smiled as she helped me up off of the ground. “You never should have tried the high wire walk. I told you that you were too fat.” She said snickering. Mmm. Snickers. I’m hungry. “Let’s get some Ben and Jerry’s tonight.” I suggested. “No thanks. I’ll just vomit it up anyway. I have a photo shoot tomorrow,” “Yeah, I forgot.” I yanked the nylon wedgy out of my ass. She always got a kick out of that. “Will you rub my belly till I fall asleep, then?” I begged. “If you keep your tight little outfit on, I will.” The television was blaring as I fell asleep on Candice’s lap. She rubbed my belly till I fell asleep. I slept great that night. I woke up the next morning to her pretty voice singing in the shower. I walked to the bathroom door and opened it slowly. She had the rubber bunny shower slippers I gave her last Fourth of July on her feet so she wouldn’t slip. The surgery had done wonders for her hump. You could barely tell it was ever there. I knew. I loved her with it and I lover her without it. “Judy. Judy. Judy.” I said giving her my best Carey Grant impression. She never heard of Cary Grant. I never heard of Hanover Spudnick. I figure that makes us even. She cried and vomited her breakfast into my new Cowboy hat. I didn’t mind. I kind of liked it. She left around 7:30 am for her photo shoot. I took off the nylon mesh underwear that was itching me like mad and went back to sleep dreaming of her pimpled face and plastic surgery scars. Candice always knew what I liked.

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