“Yeah. They should make a movie about all the Hindenburg flights that made it.”

negative self-talk

I got gently course-corrected by The Friend Zone podcast this week.  It related to how I identify healing, what it means, and my expectations of life after that.  (I’m reasonably sure I’ve established my propensity for over-excitement.)  I’ve since re-evaluated, sat with, and reigned in my expectations.  In a way, it’s a relief because my expectations were kind of lofty. 🤭  I’m grateful; (imagine how much time this adjustment will save.)  The assignment this week is to counter each negative thought with five positive (before sleeping) to train away negative self-talk.

It sounded like a lot to me at first.  But I tried it, and it’s fun.  I’m enjoying it as much as a video game that doesn’t depend solely on hand-eye coordination for advancement. 😶  It unlocked a new level in life, too.  Now, I am suddenly able to recall lots of good memories from times in my life when traumatic memories used to block them.  It’s fracking awesome!  I knew I had a ridiculous amount of fun while serving, but couldn’t trace it back to very many specific memories.  Now I can, and it began from thinking of positive things to counter negative self-talk.

The timing was excellent, as I didn’t make it north to visit my sister.  I was busy mentally tearing myself into ickle bitty pieces over it when the airshow shut me down for a while.  (Even though my sisters’ response was so kind, it made me cry.)  I was repeating my old habit of jumping in with both feet like my life hasn’t been a cautionary tale advising the opposite.  I forgot. 🤭  (My body remembered and activated all the alarms.)  I’m one of those people who have to experience the lesson to grok it, half the time.

Boxer dog

My level of interest determines how quickly I learn, which is as much a blessing as a curse.  If I’m interested, I learn so quickly people behave differently around me ever after.  (It’s weird and fascinating.)  If not, I’m no longer surprised by people assuming I’m intellectually challenged based on how much repetition is required for me to learn.  (I went from my ego being in intensive care to no damns to give rather quickly in that regard.)  It also strengthened my asshole detector; bonus.  Sometimes, I wish I could control this by faking interest, but so far, nope.

I did make it to Denver, even though I just had a meltdown recently.  Flying is a lot easier than driving for me, and TSA is part of why.  I know it’s weird, but I like TSA in Denver and Sioux Falls.  They help make it possible for me to travel alone.  I was an inch from bawling over the slightest thing and still managed to maneuver an international airport by myself without shedding a single tear.  The app on my phone failed to load my boarding pass.  Seconds before I tilted my head back and just crumbled into a most pitiful pile, a TSA person stepped in and gave me clear instructions on how to resolve it.

And when I did step one then promptly got lost, another TSA person stepped in like they were in a relay race passing batons. They even wrote me a note, so I didn’t have to stand in the long ass security line twice.  I know about the services that prevent this, but I need the time to mentally prepare for following all the instructions without holding up others.  (I’m so much better at it now than when I first started traveling again.)  A TSA person pulled me aside and told me exactly how to behave (body language) when in line so that I would stop getting all my bags scrutinized.  She didn’t have to do that, and I’m thankful.  It makes me wonder if they get training for interacting with neurodivergent people.  (It seems like they do.)

I was able to speak aloud at the time, but not much beyond lots of nodding and showing my phone screen.  I know a lot of people are annoyed by TSA, but to me, they’re helpful and pleasant.  (At least in Sioux Falls and Denver.)  Guitar Hero is teaching me how to use weed as a creative tool.  (I can tell he was a hippie because he has a lot of rules about respecting pot.)  I’m loving every minute of being calm in my body.  It’s a lot like coming up for air after staying underwater a little too long.  I’m off to introduce him to Solange. 😆💜✌🏾

“I don’t even really work here!”

 

Dragon hint

A Black Lady Sketch Show on HBO is my new favorite show.  I’ve been streaming it like it’s Homecoming by Beyoncé.  I’m an okay bitch with autism, yo.  (Flutters my bald eyelashes.)  HBO is still the only network that can tell me where to be and when; (so bossy.) 😉  I hope they have Wanda Sykes and Whoopie Goldberg on there at some point. (And Regina King, Ellen Cleghorne, Aisha Tyler, and so many more.) 😆

I’m going to stream it again after this.  Heh.  I keep wanting to talk about Solange, but words don’t work here.  It would be a post of me typing Solange over and over again while grinning like a doof.  (You have no idea how close I came to doing just that.) At least it would feel kind of like expressing my joy for her existence.  Sigh.

Solange isn’t just the newest member of my Healing Sisters Internal Advisory Panel (HSIAP via music.)  She’s the boss.  In my head, she walked right up to Stevie Nicks, Amy Lee, Agnetha Faltzkog, Sheryl Crow, Mary J. Blige, (there’s more) and Beyoncé, and said, can I hold the mic, please?  (All signs indicate Solange won’t be giving it back any time soon.)  She skipped trying to reach me with mere lyrics and went right for my spirit.  😳🤭

Solange When I Get Home Vinyl

Solange has been here before.  Her music.  Nobody who only lived that long for the first time can do that, yo.  That’s the best I can articulate.  (And yes, I’m working on it.)  I know a lot of other artists are popping right now, but frankly, Solange practically owns my ears at this time.  Aside from Brown Skin Girl, of course.  That song is on repeat whenever I’m not listening to Solange’s When I Get Home.  Everything else is on pause.

I’m getting ready for a solo road trip north.  My sister needs me, and she’s the one person left on this planet who has mom-like powers over me.  (Otherwise, oh hell no.)  It’s a big deal for me to drive five hours in a single day with ridiculously monotonous scenery.  I’ve done it before, but not often.  To go from that challenge immediately to being in someone else’s space to offer my services as a sister is bigger.

My spirit stirred me to do it, which is something I haven’t wrapped my head around yet.  (I don’t think I would have even picked up on it if not for Dr. Keia mentioning these things happen.)  Hence, running with it.  My sister knows me well enough to avoid hinting since it’s futile with me.  (Tell me what you mean, or disappointment will ensue.) It’s time to stretch my more healed self and flex my growth.  I’m terrified, but I’m going to do it anyway.

open road

When I get home (heh), I’m going to Denver for a mini recreational vacation.  Guitar Hero is going to buddy-sit while I transform from a nodder who never makes eye contact into someone who suddenly uses gestures, looks at people, and won’t STFU for an hour after two hits.  He finds it amusing and claims it’s like hanging out with my anime version.  (Possibly said animated, but I like anime better.) Enough oversharing.  I’m off to belly laugh over my new favorite show. 💜✌🏽

“Stop it, Kramer, you’re freaking me out.”

person in cosplay costume

I just got back from a mini vacation in Denver.  M thought it would be an excellent way to shake loose from the downward spiral into a pit of depression.  It worked.  I’m feeling so much better.  I’m nearly giddy — a pleasant side-effect of getting baked while in Rome.  I feel energized from reaching a state of zero anxiety.  Half the effect is from the sense of awe over the achievement.  I always forget how incredible it feels.  It makes for a delightful surprise each visit.

It also reminded me of the cost demanded in vulnerability.  In my case, partaking is a buddy exercise only.  Heh.  I cherish this knowledge like someone who thinks way too much.  🙃 (Jordan Peele made us cool.)  I slept like Gayle King after an R Kelly interview last night.  I woke up laughing, feeling like I could conquer my chores before noon.  (Done.)  I worked on my story in progress like Mavis Beacon was testing my typing for several hours.  The Muse must have been pleased to see me discover that headspace.

The only con is I didn’t do an ergonomic check before I jumped in.  I’m don’t stay in the same position for too long, or you’ll move like you’re 100 for an uncomfortable minute years old.  It’s still funny every time I forget;  bonus.  I had a great time in Denver.  I behave like someone who hasn’t been around enough diversity for a long time and can’t reign in the huge grin.  I strongly suspect it factors into why I find the people of Denver so kind.

cute bearded person

I beta tested a prototype while visiting, and it’s triggered all sorts of thought paths for potential usability.  Air traffic controllers, surgeons, and neurodiverse people were obvious beneficiaries immediately.  By the time I strayed onto a different thought tangent, I had decided it would probably be useful to everyone who wanted to use it.  I merely applied a bit of capitalist tinged triage on the fly.  (Those are people I know are often under tremendous pressure.)

Despite having fun, coming home was the best part.  I longed for home while enjoying myself.  It’s confirmation I’ve successfully configured my living space.  It’s where I want to be.  I had no idea this was the prize.  It’s fabulous!  The funny part is I think it’s going to weaken my tendency toward agoraphobia.  When I know, I have a place where I can genuinely exhale, awaiting my return, going out is a lot less painful.  Yay.  Thank goodness for Marie Kondo.

I think the most important thing she taught me is organization and awareness of my connection to my stuff is a beautiful coping skill for anxiety and depression.  (Usually, what’s good for us is good for most, because many don’t know they dabble in juggling these challenges, too.)  I didn’t bring my new camera because I’m not even sure which parts of it I’m not supposed to touch yet.  I only know those parts exist.  (I’m such a noob.  😂)  I’m off to continue re-reading A Wise Man’s Fear by Patrick Rothfuss.  (We’re in Fae.  😆)

“What’s with all that sniffing?”

child at aquarium viewing polar bear swimming

I’m having a good 2019, so far.  (I’m already keeping track.)  Heh.  Ever since I leveled up in the game of life, I’m more apt to notice positivity.  It amuses me as I used to be one of those people who automatically scoffed at others saying, “think positive.”  As if thinking a certain way can vastly improve my quality of life.  Pshaw!  Cue the condescendingly tolerant reel that plays whenever I witness hippy-like behavior, courtesy of being raised in the upper midwest.

Either the community brain-washing didn’t take, or I’m a rebel.  I’m presently engaging in all sorts of hippy-like behavior.  I just got back from a mini-vacation in Denver.  Since M accompanied me, I was able to partake of the legal variety of weed while there.  (I decided I don’t need to use it very often, so mini-trips suffice over moving.)  I still feel like it’s having a positive effect on me.  Reverberations from reaching a state where I experienced no anxiety, I presume.

broken cookies

When I got home, my blood pressure meds were waiting in my mailbox.  I have to see my primary care doctor in the next three months, or I’ll run out again.  I suck at noticing symptoms until they bring me to my knees.  Now that I’ve taken a dose, I can already feel the difference.  It feels like someone just let me out from between the heavy mattresses that were crushing me on the sly.

I’m sensitive about my hypertension.  In my case, it seems my blood pressure and anxiety level increase in tandem.  The closer I get to freaking out, the higher my blood pressure rises.  I despise having it checked with the auto-cuff.  It usually starts a loop of ever-increasing numbers, until the medical person groks the pattern, and turns it off.  (I’m embarrassed by this quirk because I strongly suspect I caused it during an experiment I did years ago attempting to train myself to suppress all visual signs of stress/anxiety/depression.)

It backfired, I think.  I waiver between the benefits of masking to prevent stranger danger and the dangers of mistreatment due to not presenting stereotypically around poorly trained medical professionals.  I’ve apprehended a resolution to my difficulties in getting racism-free care at the Sioux Falls VA.  I’ve concluded my best option is to forgive the mistreatment in the past, and move forward without the baggage.  (It seems kind of duh, now, but it took me a while to figure it out.)  😂

bunny suit costume

It turns out; I’m allergic to baggage.  It slows me down, weighs me down, and worst of all hurts me.  (I’m also allergic to pain. 🤫)  My ability to reason when enduring pain is pathetic.  I could work on that, or I could focus on avoiding pain when it’s a choice.  I’m big on narrowing down the root, so I’m going with the latter option.  Fortunately, I don’t have any chronic pain conditions, and borderline-unsafe high pain tolerance (unless it’s above the neck.)  Most of my pain is a result of poor choices.  (Ouch.)(Shaddup, ego.) 🙃

I’m going to schedule an appointment with my primary care doctor at the VA.  When I believed this action impossible, it was due to being buried in painful baggage.  Now that I’ve engaged my Superpower of Forgiveness, I’ve freed myself and can imagine a fabulous 2019:  A year that includes preventative health care, lots of joy, and the Fleetwood Mac concert.  (Okay, the last two are redundant, but who’s counting?)  😂✌🏾💜

“You know, these movies are great, but they’re just so emotionally exhausting.”

Growing sprouts

I used up most of my energy before noon, today.  Whoops.  I’m allowing too much news to get through.  I’m battling against an overwhelming desire to isolate, as a result.  I remember when I used to surrender to this urge.  It seems like a long time ago, but it’s been just over a year since I crawled out from beneath that rock.  Life is quite challenging now, and it’s building me up.

Anxiety has been dangling me by my ankle over a pit of doom.  I’m hanging there, trusting in The Force while my body trembles.  I need a Star Wars marathon.  I’m going to do a chronological order viewing over the course of a week.  We’re heading to Denver soon for a short tree planting session.  M is going to play with drones.  I miss the smell of freshly turned earth.

I watched Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee, yesterday.  I started from the beginning and watched through Sarah Jessica Parker.  Jim Carrey made me laugh so hard I cried.  I didn’t know he was a painter.  You get to see lots of his works inside his art studio.  I love the show because it’s not only hilarious, it’s fascinating.  I love Netflix.  Heh.

flying drone

I think I may need to include a rest day in my workout schedule.  My muscles feel itchy, which is distracting.  I haven’t quit running yet.  When I step onto the trail, my body starts running automatically.  I roll with it until I get to the first street crossing.  Then I walk for a bit until my mind wanders again, and I start jogging.  It’s a stim, not my workout, so I don’t mind.  It calms me.

I create mashups of songs by Stevie Nicks and ABBA in my head while I run, lately.  Edge of Seventeen mashed with Does Your Mother Know is ridic dope.  I may even try to mix it myself just because I need it in my life.  It’s in my top two songs right now, including Nice For What by Drake.  The creative part of my brain works so well when I’m in constant, rhythmic motion.

I regret pushing to muscle failure in my workout this morning.  I forgot I’m in my 40’s or something.  I don’t feel older; I need more time to recover, and stretching is no longer optional.  I remember when my body could do whatever I demanded without flinching.  I would miss it, but I’m too busy being pleased with what I can still do.  Recovery time and lots of stretching are acceptable.  I practice meditation while I stretch like it’s worth extra credit; (it probably is.)  I’m off to make popcorn for my marathon.  😆 💜