Witch's Cauldron...

I have a big pot of titillating beef stew bubbling away like a witch's cauldron on the stove this morning. My house smells wonderful. I made enough to feed an army and will freeze most of it. Also, today I am making a pan of cornbread like my mother always made it. You heat the oil in an iron skillet till it is smoking and pour in the cornbread batter. It fries and makes a crunchy crust on the outside.

This morning was my injection and that was routine. Tim, one of my fellow employees, picked me up and took me. I don't feel well enough to drive lately. I managed to talk Dad into giving me a little money for breakfast this morning. I ate up at Sarah Jay's getting the big breakfast platter with scrambled eggs, biscuits and gravy, sausage, buttery grits, and orange juice.

Sorry!

Sorry for my outburst this morning.  I am just not feeling well and tend to use the blog to vent.  I feel badly and better at the same time for writing that post.  Misery loves company as they always say, and I just don't want to be alone.  I feel so alone these days. 

Tired and Scared...

You heard it here first.  I don't want to go on living with these panic/anxiety attacks anymore.  I hear people saying they are having them too, but I seriously doubt the severity as compared to the ones I am having.  I see things.  My mouth gets so dry it is maddening.  I can't swallow.  It feels like someone punching me in my stomach.  My head spins.  I can't focus on anything to see straight.  This will last for hours as my heart pounds in my chest to the point I fear I am having a heart attack.  I am afraid to go to the doctor as I will have another waiting to see him.  Work is the scariest thing in the world as I fear having one of these "spells" out of my home.  It is soul crushing and debilitating.   I have never been so scared in my life.  I feel like part of me -- the outgoing and gregarious part -- is slowly dying.

And I feel like I can't write about it on my own damn blog.  I fear I am coming across as whining or complaining -- just more mentally ill bullshit from the mentally ill guy.  No one believes the severity of my attacks.  Including my family.  My Dad was praising me last night cause "I handled them like a man."  Scoff!!!  I ought to just go back to drinking.  Then maybe they will stop again.  My life couldn't be any worse than it is now. 

Clickety Clack!

I worried all day yesterday constantly.  Worried about Rosa.  Worried about my sister and her one year old, and how she was going to juggle all that and be a cancer doctor.  Worried about Mom and her mental illness.  It culminated into a big whiz bang anxiety/panic attack that lasted for hours and hours.  Thankfully, it passed just about time for Dad to come over at 9:30 PM.  Whew!!!!  That was close.  I couldn't bare to go through another search of my house for contraband that Dad is prone to do when I am feeling ill.  Adding insult to injury. 

This morning I am still in my pajamas. Not long from waking.  I've been watching Maggie chase a fly -- her little "cleats" going clickety clack on my hardwood floors as she daintily chases it.  It has brought many a childish smile and laugh.  I am easily amused.  It makes me feel lighter and better.  

I find myself living through other people's blogs lately.  Their lives seem so good and wholesome.  Free of anxiety or panic attacks.  I long to be so active and outgoing.  I would love to go to an AA meeting today.  Just to sit and listen to the AA speak and people watch.  Alcoholics are such an interesting breed of person.   Brutally honest once in AA -- almost to a fault.   I admire that and need to emulate it more.  I would love to get embroiled in constant AA meetings and gatherings again.   

.:Strange Calls Near Midnight...

It was 11 PM when I received the call.  Then the pleading began.  I was cozy in the bed with Maggie.  I was curled up reading an old Astronomy magazine -- drooling over the Meade telescopes for sale on the back page.  I was so comfortable.  The phone rang and rang, and I ignored it at first.  It rang again and I laboriously lifted myself out of bed to answer.  I thought something bad had happened in my family.  Who would be calling so late? 

"Can I borrow your car tomorrow?" Rosa asked hurriedly without the usual pleasantries.

"What's wrong with your car?" I asked. 

"The batteries dead and I need to get to work," She replied.

Strange....

I said no.  After my car got stolen, I have been very protective of it.  I often go and look outside to see if it is still there. 

"I'll take you to work tomorrow," I said.  "What time?"

"Don't worry about it," Rosa replied. "I'll ask my uncle if I can borrow his truck."

Okay.  We hung up the phone and I lay in the bed for the longest time thinking about what just occurred.  It was totally strange for Rosa to ask to use my car.  It makes me worry she is using again and has pawned the title to her car.  What tangled webs we weave....   I am probably worrying for naught, though.  

.:A Day for Mothers...

It is 2 PM on a Sunday afternoon.  Mother's day.  Dad has just cooked a big pot of homemade spaghetti sauce.  Within minutes, we are sitting around the kitchen table eating spaghetti, garlic bread, and salads while we talk and laugh.  It is so delicious.  I cherish these moments with my family.  It feels so wholesome and good -- the things good memories are made of.

Woke late this morning and reluctantly.  I had aspirations of catching morning trains down at the rail yard.  I ended up eating a breakfast of Frosted Flakes cereal and bananas and sleeping in.

The days are getting so long!  It doesn't get dark till almost 9 PM.  It is spring and it is spectacular outside.  I, too, find myself counting down the hours till sunset though.  Sleep is my only respite from life and I welcome it.  Being able to dream of winning lotteries and eating at posh restaurants is a frequent trend.  Most years I have longed for Spring, the same as everyone does, and can’t wait for the longer days, all this magical light, lasting into the evenings.

.:Heartbeat....

I sit here uneasily in my computer room.  Meek.  I listen to my heartbeat for the tell-tale signs of another panic attack.  They are so scary!  I feel like I am losing my mind.  I will browse the Internet awhile and then go lay down for several minutes to fight another off.  It is amazing I've been able to work. 

There is a heartbeat down at the railyard -- a veritable pulse I have found.  I am drawn down there almost everyday to sit and watch trains and their workers.  It feels like a presence -- a benevolent one.  The timeless parade of trains that was once the backbone of our community.   We could once call ourselves a railroad town.  Times change, but one thing holds true:  The railroads still march onwards carrying the freight that gives us our standard of living.  Long live the railroads!

Tomorrow is Mother's day.  I feel a sadness cause I couldn't get Mom more.  I got her a card which I hope she appreciates.  If it were a just world, I would have gotten her flowers -- a large bouquet of beautiful roses or pansies.  She certainly has meant so much to me lately.  It is hard to believe, but ten years ago we barely talked.  We fought constantly like cats and dogs -- oil and water.  Now, I call her everyday to see how she is doing.  We are kindred spirits whose mental illnesses kept us at arms.  We are medicated now and serene, loving, and giving.  We have both come a long way. 

Almost looking forward to going back to bed.  I did sleep 5 more hours this morning after waking at 6 AM.  Sleep is my great escape -- my release.  I know no panic attacks will occur then.  Unfortunately, once I am up then I am up.  I can't go back to sleep no matter how hard I try.  Fresh, warm recently washed and dried sheets and comforters on my bed.  So inviting.   Maggie has the right idea and is on the bed.  I can hear the bed shake as she carefully preens herself of the numerous things that "bite" her -- her cooties.   Hours will pass before the urge to sleep again hits.    

The Aliens Haven't Landed...

I listen to a lot of Coast to Coast AM. One of their favorite topics is UFO's and extra terrestrials. I have always been a staunch skeptic. Phil Plaitt wrote this on his blog today, Bad Astronomy. It is a very valid point.

To his list, I’ll add my #1 reason of all time: why don’t amateur astronomers report them in record numbers? After all, who spends more time looking at the sky? The fact that few if any amateurs report them is a pretty clear case that the vast majority, at least, of all UFO reports are misunderstood mundane objects like airplanes, satellites, reflections, meteors, and Venus. Sometimes even the Moon, amazingly.

When a flying saucer lands on the White House lawn, someone call me.

UFOh Noes!

.:Deep Blue with a Splash of Yellow...

Sat out on the bench behind the bustling bank this morning -- my secret place of solitude next to the train tracks.  The sky was a staggeringly beautiful azure blue interspersed with puffy white clouds.  A veritable calm amidst the storms we are experiencing.  The city skyline stretched out behind me for as long as I could see.  The grass has become so lush and green with trees of blossoms of pink and white.  In one hand was a Sprite Zero and the other a Model Railroader magazine.  All was right in my world. 

I actually enjoyed my day off yesterday, but I missed the socialization.  Johnnie Watts had requested more hours and did the deliveries.  This meant I could stay home and cook the Edward's apple pie I had in my freezer.  Although not as good as homemade, it was still very tasty.  The only thing I was missing was ice cream to accompany it.  I sent a piece of warm pie home to my mother with Dad last night.  I am sure she devoured it. 

Struggling with what to write these days.  My life has been so mind numbingly boring that I risk scaring people off by writing about it.  All my old favorite characters and haunts to write about no longer inhabit my life.  No Rosa.  No George.  Very little of Ferret and Big S. I originally started to blog cause I liked to tell the tales of the characters that inhabit my life.  Now the blog is just a regular daily journal. 

On the way back to the shopping center, I dropped the keys to the lock on my bike.  I bent over to pick them up and noticed the most minute and beautiful flowers.   Deep blue with a splash of yellow at the heart, they were growing through the deep cracks in the pavement.  Pulled one up and just stared for the longest time as I stood there. I know I looked silly to anyone driving or passing by looking at this tiny freckle-like flower, but I was undaunted.   Doing things like this just reaffirms my confidence in the world -- that good things are out there you just have to know where to look.  I could have scorned the hot, moon-like cratered pavement upon which they grew, or I could see the beauty in the little small flower that caught my attention with dazzling color.  I am going to try and hold on to this moment for the day.    

Lazy, Rainy Day...

.:Winded by the Truth...

It was a long, hectic bike ride to McDonald's for lunch.  The traffic was busy on highway 29 with cars honking and swerving to avoid me.   It all felt rather frantic.  I arrived at McDonald's and got two delicious Big Macs and a large fries.  The next hour was spent people watching.  I watched as a beast of a mother berated her two young sons for eating too much and fighting over the rest of their french fries.   They were two rotund little children.  The mother I might say didn't have too much room to talk.  She was rotund as well. 

I was soon growing worried about storms so headed home.  It took me thirty minutes to ride the way back to my house.  The wind was blowing briskly and the clouds were growing amid darkened skies.  We have a slight risk of severe weather today.  I look forward to the storms, but don't want tornadoes.  It is that time of the year in the South. 

Maggie was so overjoyed to see me when I got home.  She did a little happy dance that only dogs can do when I walked in the door.  I sat on the couch for the longest time just petting her.  She relished every bit of the attention.  Legs sore and balking, I stretched out on the couch and almost went to sleep.   I was overly full and should have eaten only one Big Mac. 

Sometimes I get winded by the truth.  I thought long and hard as I lay there about my life.  36.  Having to borrow money from my mother for lunch.  Every aspect of my life carefully controlled by my father.  I don't even know how much my bills are or how much is in my checking account.   Am I lucky or is this just terrible?  I think I have a good life. I am pretty happy.  Others seem to think something is terribly wrong with all of this.  I fear I would quickly go back to drinking with lots of money on hand.  Just like a diabetic needs insulin, I need a carefully controlled and monitored life to do well.  This doesn't speak highly for my character I know.