So....

[rispacooper]

so the world is convinced that i am having a nervous breakdown of some kind, and possibly i am and am just unaware, and is treating me with all this extremely annoying concern (annoying as it will make me cry if they keep it up) and why oh why is the world so interested in little me?

because little me that never hurts herself or goes to the hospital has been *twice* in the past two weeks now first for not breathing thing--which seems fine now btw-- but then for stitches on my poor pinky since i did something i never do and had a slight (major) incident with a meat slicer. (never had stitches before...very odd to watch yourself get sewn up). and of course, i have a cold. running nose mush everywhere. i am disgusting. and a gimp now who cannot even unfasten a bra without little staby stabs in my hand. or take a shower without assistance for a few days. ick ick ick. and none of this of course refers to the anxiety attacks, which appear at random (like last night...are my tetanus shots up to date? how long does that take to get you? is it fixable? =2:30 am trip to comp to look it up)

anyway. i guess my body needs a break. only i've been breaking for over a week now, dammit! (hmmm clearly didn't take, judging from my tone).

in other more positive news, yay for pir8fancier! and yay for porn!

Comments

[imre-nico.livejournal.com]

*Pets head*

I remember getting hand stitches. I remember the painless but stunned aftershock of the injury...."Oh...shit...did I really...just.....shit!"

And the incapacitation. And if you have a cold, that's ten times worse.

Luckily, stitches make stuff heal really fast >;.D

[rispacooper.livejournal.com]

I have discovered that it is easier, albeit disgusting and extremely unglamorous, to just stick tissue up my nose and leave it there.

I am so sexee.

[pir8fancier.livejournal.com]

The concern is a double-edged sword, yes? My kids are now in hysterics if I am 10 minutes late because they are convinced I am slumped over in my car somewhere on highway 24 gasping my last gasp. They even get my mother in on the hysteria, and I love my mother to death but she doesn't need ANY encouragement to be worried about me.

I will say in other people's defense that last year several family members said to me, "I'm worried about you." In hindsight and several thousands later with therapist, they were damn right to be worried about me. I look back and say, yes, that person back then needed a lifeboat. Was drowning, thank you very much.

Which is only further fodder for the anti-anxiety argument because if I was going to have a fucking meltdown with my lungs, it would have been then.

I used to be a chef and it's alarmingly easy to do nasty things with knives. My sympathies.

In other news, I set off the heart monitor without meaning to this afternoon. I have recorded nothing but getting out of my car. Five records left. On the one hand, I hope I use none of them. On the other, it would be good to have something for the doc to read. I have this on until Thursday and if I can just stop accidentally hitting the damn thing, I might have a chance of recording something. But kind of hope not?

Bugger.

[rispacooper.livejournal.com]

though it's making me wonder what exactly i am so stressed about. i feel like i have ptsd for some memory i've blocked out or something.

grrrr. (like the ne ne, i prefer an obvious enemy in my face, thanks)

does it go off whenever your heart speeds up?

[pir8fancier.livejournal.com]

No, I actually have to punch a button. I have electrodeswith wires attached to my hips and chest, which are attached to something that looks like a pager. Tres chic. My children think it's very Bride of Frankenstein-ish. Frankly, that's the way I feel. You know, Elsa Lancaster wtih the afro and bug eyes.

I just re-read the last two chapters again today. Your boys. The best.

[rispacooper.livejournal.com]

i am trying pirate therapy as well. i find saying "questing pirate tongue" out loud makes me giggle