Stress Symptoms

On By Brigid H.In Mental MisfiresLeave a comment

Since I have been living with Generalized Anxiety Disorder for most of my life, I’m accustomed to the occasional panic attack. In fact, I take three pills a day in hopes to avoid them completely, but it does not always work. Typically, my panic attacks involve shortness of breath, feeling overheated, and racing thoughts. One time, I was on the cardiac floor of the hospital and had a huge attack that made the nurses give me heart medication just in case. That was the first time, the only time, that I truly believed my heart would beat out of my chest. Oh boy, was I mistaken!

I was sleeping. Not for very long, could not have been more than 20 minutes, but I was asleep and suddenly I was awake. My heart was racing I was so fast, and I could hear it in my head so loudly it was causing a headache. I was pouring sweat, felt nauseous, and was having trouble catching my breath. It was by far the worst panic attack I have ever had in my life. I can only assume I had an extremely triggering dream, but it took Xanax, Zofran, a peanut butter sandwich, and a full 45 minutes before I started to feel like myself again.

I was surprised by the verocity of the panic attack, but I am not surprised that it occurred. I am fairly certain I am battling another episode of Acute Stress Disorder, which comes and goes in my life with the seasons. There is simply too many worries at this moment in time. However, none of my worries have ever sent me over the edge like I was the other night.

I tell you about my panic attack from hell because I want you to know the symptoms in case it happens to you. In fact, when I think about it, everything I write regarding Mental Health is simply to help other people understand themselves or their loved ones who are going through it. I did not like what happened to me in the other night, but I know it is something that happens to me. It is hard, but it is not impossible. I guess, at the end of the day, I just want other people to know they are not alone. That is the best I can help for.

Housekeeping: Yours truly will be performing some poetry for a fundraiser for the Brazen-faced Varlets 24-25 season. If you are in the area, and would like to attend on June 22nd, please hit me up for details! Happy weekend!

Words and Art

On By Brigid H.In Alphabet SoupLeave a comment

Last night, my Aunt Mary accompanied me to an exhibition for a spoken word artist whom I enjoy. We got there just in time to see him perform a few poems and explain the art that adorned the room. Most of it was focused on the home and church in which he grew up. This morning, I find myself thinking about this art show again, and more so thinking about the home and church in which I grew up.

The first house that I remember living with in was on Tonawanda Street in the Riverside neighborhood of Buffalo, New York. We lived in a big house across from the park, and that is where I learned to do things like ride a tricycle or go down the big slide. We did not stay in this house for very long, and eventually moved to what I consider to be my real childhood home, a lovely Craftsman in Kenmore. It made sense, because I was already going to school in Kenmore, too. Which brings me to the church.
As someone who went to Catholic School, the church was simply part of our learning experience. I remember a great many baptisms and first communions and weddings and funerals within those walls, not to mention the weekly Mass on Sunday with my parents, or they Feast Day Masses we attended with our classmates during school hours. My church did not have a Youth Organization really, which was a disappointment to me. In fact, I ended up joining a Baptist youth group because the Catholics did not seem to care what we were doing in our spare time.

I was thinking about the house on Knowlton, where I lived for 17 years with my parents and eventually my sister. It looks different today, but still in great condition because of good owners. I know most of the neighbors have died or moved off of the street, so it is not the same place that I remember from my youth. But oh, the times we had! When I was young I felt like the street was my playground, and my front porch was home base. Even in my teenage years, my friends would congregate at my house at least once a week, sitting on the porch or in the yard, or on the kitchen floor if it was raining.

I thought about how hard it was when my dad got laid off and couldn’t pay the mortgage anymore. I thought about how sad my sister was to have to move, and how sad I was although I was grown enough to understand.

I thought about how we started going to a different church after we move to Lackawanna. I thought about how I stopped going to church at the same time. Perhaps I stayed with Catholicism a little longer because of the comfort that was brought to me by the neighborhood in which I grew up. When all that was taken away, it no longer seemed to be a priority for me. Looking back, that was probably a good thing.

I think that good art makes you think. I can say that this poet had some good art, because I am still thinking this morning. I am still in awe of the way people’s brains work when they create such beautiful things. I still do not understand how I can create such things sometimes as well. Oh well, something to ponder. Happy weekend!

Lights Out

On By Brigid H.In Alphabet SoupLeave a comment

One of my absolute bucket list items is to see the Aurora Borealis. I live in the northwest corner of New York, right near Niagara Falls, Canada. Now, if it were 1999, I could simply pay $1.50 and show my ID to cross over into Canada. In fact, sometimes they didn’t even ask for an ID. They usually just asked for your country of origin and where you were headed. The point is that I could have gone into Canada, driven north, and eventually seen that which I hope to see. However, it is not 1999, and now I need an enhanced ID that costs way more than a regular ID. I’ll get one eventually, but not today. This, however, is not the point; the point is that I can’t get any farther north than I am right now, so that has kept me from seeing the Northern Lights.

When I heard about the space storms that would be taking place this past weekend, I got very excited. However, I have been burned before. I have gone out to watch meteor showers and then was met with rain showers, instead. I planned on seeing an eclipse, and the clouds had other ideas. I have been told that it would be possible for me to see the Northern Lights previously, and I stared at the sky and waited for nothing. So I don’t think I really truly thought it was going to be visible. Still, I was hopeful.

Friday came, and I don’t know how I got through the day but I know I was tired at the end of it. After dinner, I decided I would take a nap for an hour. No big deal, I would be up soon before the sun even set and then I would go out and see if I could find the lights. Naturally, my plans went awry.

I slept through my alarm and woke up instead at 3am, and peeked out to find nothing of interest. I assumed it was not visible here and I had been duped again. Until I went on Facebook and saw a thousand pictures of a pink and green sky.

I was so disappointed, until I read an article saying there was another chance to see them on Saturday night, weather permitting. Of course, weather did not permit. I do recall looking at the sky during a break in the pouring rain and thinking it looked very blue in the south but kind of pinkish-purple in the north. I wonder if that was it, peering through the clouds just a little bit.

I read an article this morning saying that there are a few other storms coming, and perhaps it will be visible again soon. I am very hopeful this time; I will not doubt that I will see them like I did when I thought I’d be fine to take a nap for a second. I will plow through with coffee and patience, and someday I will see the Aurora Borealis for real. What I need to do is stop hoping and start expecting. That is how you manifest what you want. (At least, that’s what the witches keep telling me.)

A Haiku

Northern lights shine bright.
Chance of a lifetime and I-
fell asleep too soon.
Someday.

Be Kind

On By Brigid H.In Alphabet SoupLeave a comment

I learned a lesson about myself today, and it is that I am much better at keeping my cool in a situation than I used to be. I believe I have learned through both maturity and therapy how to manage my emotions properly. This was put to the test today, as a gentleman at work screamed obscenities at me. Now, were this 10 years ago, one of two things would have happened. One, I would have burst into tears and quit my job on the spot. Two, I would have run my mouth off and gotten fired. Either way, if this was 10 years ago, I probably would have lost my job.

One of the tricky things about my position is that when folks come in to pay with a debit card, I cannot guarantee them a rental. It is a little detail that is hidden in the fine print, but we try to tell everyone we can so as to avoid situations like the one I had this morning. If you are paying with a debit card, you have to pass a soft credit check, and if you do not pass, I do not rent. Most people are disappointed but understanding, but this morning, I suppose this particular customer was having a very bad day. When I explained to him I could not rent, and further explained I could not refund his prepayment from the counter, I was greeted with great anger and blame, as if I were deliberately ruining this man’s vacation.

Except, I kept my cool. I did not dissolve into tears, I did not start screaming in his face: instead I just stayed calm and explained to him what his options were. He left angerly, saying he would be back with a credit card. I was very anxious for an hour or so while I waited for Boss-Mark to show up, because I did not want to face this guy alone, again. Fortunately, Mark came in about 1 minute before customers return, and sent me to the back to fill washer fluid bottles while he dealt with them. Before I went in the back, however, the man apologized to me for his behavior and said that he felt bad for what he had said. I don’t know if it was genuine or if it was because his 96-year-old grandmother was standing beside him, but either way it was appreciated.

This exchange put me in a funk for most of my morning. That is until later in the day, when I realized how differently I handled this situation compared to my behaviors in the past. After that, I was pretty proud of myself. I decided I was not going to let a stranger ruin my day, and since then I have been feeling much lighter. The little reminder that I have grown is enough to cheer me up and wipe away the funk.

Not a very long update today. Just remember to be kind to people if you can, and have a good weekend.  Happy Friday.

Gardening Through Grief

On By Brigid H.In Alphabet Soup1 Comment

The above is a post from a grief support group that I follow on Facebook. The topic got me thinking, which brings me here to the blog.

It occurred to me literally yesterday that I will not be able to pick flowers from my mother’s garden this year. My father no longer lives in their house, and I think the new tenants would find it odd if I pilferred plants from their yard. I am very sad about this, because the hydrangeas and the clematis were always my favorite flowers in her garden, and they kept my house smelling lovely for days.  Then when they died, I would just go back and get some more. That is no longer an option.

My mother tried to teach me to garden when I was small, in our big backyard on Tonawanda street, but I did not take to weeding or planting the way she wanted. It was not until I was older and had my own apartment with a little patch of dirt that I started to care about growing things. That first year I grew green beans and cucumbers and carrots and strawberries and I was so proud of myself! After we moved out of that apartment, I didn’t have much green space with which to work anymore, so I started buying plans for the house. I am very sad to say that since my mother’s death, all of my plans have gone as well. I simply have not devoted as much time to them as I did in the past.

Sunday is Mother’s Day. I’m not exactly looking forward to it, because we do not have the kids this weekend so they cannot distract me from missing mom. Bernadette wants to go plant shopping, which sounds nice but still kind of makes me sad because that is what we used to do with mom on Mother’s Day. I would like to get a plant or two, however, and restart my garden. I think I will get some shamrocks and some strawberries, or maybe just a couple of succulents so I can ease my way back into gardening.

I suppose I should have used gardening as a grief coping mechanism. I did not think of it until I saw that post this morning. It is something that my mother loved it to do, and something I have enjoyed in the past. It may be worth a shot.

Today, however, I will simply be relaxing. I intend to get some things done around the house, and maybe get outside for a little while. I have plans with Chelsea later, and I am hopeful I will have a good day as I am feeling well. I am simply a little depressed about the impending Mother’s Day, but I’m sure it will pass. In the meantime, perhaps I will consider planting something new this year. I have plenty of space, and I would be really happy to grow something useful. We shall see. Happy Tuesday.

Man or Bear

On By Brigid H.In SoapboxLeave a comment

Of course, I would pick the bear.

If you have not already heard, there is a conversation on the socials about bears versus men. It is a thought question of sorts, where a woman is asked: who would you rather meet in the woods? A random unknown man, or a random unknown bear? The obvious answer for pretty much every woman I have encountered has been bear, and the obvious response from every man I have encountered is “but the bear will eat you!” Yes, we know that. We also know that the worst thing the bear can do is eat us.

Listen, all I’m saying is that absolutely no one I know has ever been attacked by a bear, and yet, every woman I know has been attacked by a man in some way. So why on Earth would we pick the dude? But that’s not what I’m here to talk about, really. I’m here to talk about why you guys are so mad about it.

You know I love to remind everybody that the patriarchy hurts men too, and this is of course one of those ways. Men are conditioned by the patriarchy to believe that they are protectors.  However, we know, through logic and factual statistics, that many men are not in fact protectors, but our predators instead. The piece I struggle to understand is where instead of the men who want to be protectors turning against the men who are predators, they often find themselves supporting them instead. I don’t think they even know they are doing this sometimes, because the patriarchy has conditioned them to think things like locker room talk are normal and okay.

What really upsets me more than this, however, is how quickly some men seem to completely disregard a woman’s lived experience in exchange for what they believe would happen instead. Even my husband, while we were talking about this, got feisty that I would choose the bear. I had to remind him that while no, it is not all men (Gomez Addams would never,) it is unfortunately most men. Just because he is a protector and not a predator, does not mean the guy across the street, or the guy he works with, or even one of his friends is not capable of flipping the switch. And we, as women, have to be wary of that.  I’m not afraid of the bear, because to me, the bear is not the apex predator in the situation.

Almost every guy I’ve seen online has been real surprised about us picking bears. And yet, more than 500,000 of us are assaulted a year. Ergo, 500,000 of you are predators. There are 12 bear attacks in North America a year, also, in case you were wondering. I will take my absolute chances with the bear. It is nonsense to do otherwise…it is nonsense to THINK I would do otherwise. I really think the men who are questioning this need to have a long hard look at themselves, because something is off, gentlemen. If you want us to choose you instead of the bear, maybe round up your 500,000 compatriots and hunt them down the same way Fish and Game would hunt down a bear that killed somebody in the woods.

Happy Friday.

Some Days

On By Brigid H.In Mental MisfiresLeave a comment

Sometimes, it gets really hard. It gets really hard to go to bed at night, because I never know how I’m going to feel in the morning. It gets really hard to get up for work in the morning, because I know the moment my eyes open that I’m going to be sick. It gets really hard to take care of yourself or your house or your family, because you spend so much time in the hospital or a bed, just trying so hard to live a normal life that you don’t GET to live because you have a chronic illness.

Sometimes, it gets hard to watch other people live their lives. It gets hard to watch people hold down the nine to five, or be able to sleep an 8 hour night, or be able to eat a meal with a friend that doesn’t send them to the hospital in the morning. It is hard never knowing what the next day is going to bring to you. It is hard never being able to make a solid plan for anything, and when you try you have to make sure you know where to find the nearest hospital. It gets hard to take all of the medication all of the time. It gets hard to go to the doctor all of the time. It gets hard to lose days or even weeks of your life because you are sick, some of those days not just mundane middle of the week, but important milestone days, too. Sometimes, it just gets really hard.

I haven’t been well, truly, since the 18th. That is the last morning that I woke up without the fear. On the 19th, my eyes flew open and my feet flew to the bathroom, and my dinner flew out my mouth. That may be a little too descriptive for you, I’m going to assure you then when you are living with this on a daily basis, that is a very mild way to put what happened. I can’t tell you how many times I have been to the hospital in the past week and a half. I know one day, I had to go twice. I have barely eaten, I have lost weight, I cannot sleep, and I’m almost constantly sick. Time means nothing, as it is currently almost 2:00 a.m. and I am wide awake and feeling well. Or rather, well enough. I have no energy whatsoever, and feel super weak and a little dizzy. However, I am not rushing off to the hospital this morning, I do not think. At least, I hope not.

I could probably write a book about how my diabetes is constantly trying to kill me, but I am too exhausted from being sick. If it’s not the retinopathy, it’s the neuropathy; if it’s not the neuropathy, it’s the gastroparesis. If it’s not the gastroparesis, it’s just random weird blood sugars. But, everyday, it’s something. And then! And then we add on all of the psychological issues, which brings four new medications to the plate, and I find myself stuffing down wee fistfuls of pills just so I can sleep at night. And if I didn’t take the psych meds, then the toll of the chronic illness would only be worse on my brain and I would only end up needing more psych meds. Everything is a vicious cycle.

So no, this was not a happy blog was it? If you are a long time reader, then you know I occasionally use my blog as a vehicle to express my emotions on a deep level, and I guess today was one of those days. I have just been sick for so long, and I am so tired. Sometimes, it gets really hard.

A Little Spring Cleaning

On By Brigid H.In UncategorizedLeave a comment

Some short housekeeping.

How is a human being supposed to deal with their mental health during a chronic illness flare up? This is a question I am pondering today, as I am 2 days without psych medication. This is not due to a med error, but instead due to the fact that I haven’t been able to keep anything down for two days. Fortunately, my stomach is calm this morning and I was able to take my medication last night, however I am still dealing with some side effects of not having taken it the past couple of days. On top of that, I am trying to rest my body because it has been rebelling on me since Friday

So while my body needs to rest, my brain desires stimulation so that it does not wander off into depressing territories. I was recently bemoaning the fact that television doesn’t really do it for me anymore. I used to be able to zone out on a good show, but that rarely happens for longer than half an hour now. I need to actually be doing something in order to feel mentally at ease, but my body will not let me get off this couch.

So, instead, I am embracing the fact that my writer’s block seems to be dissolving along with Mercury in retrograde, just like I predicted it would, and I will pen this blog. I have already updated my Patreon for the week, with a new poem that I managed to pluck out of myself in the middle of the night.

There is not much more to share at the moment. It is Wednesday, but it is an off night for poetry open mic. Next week, a poet I enjoy is having a book launch, so that should be pretty cool. My only other news is that I am trying to figure out what my next batch of submissions will be. And of course, I will probably reread my novella for the 400th time. I tend to do that a lot lately. Oh well, happy Wednesday!

Rejection Dejection

On By Brigid H.In Writing About WritingLeave a comment

Life is wild. One minute, you think everything is going to be fine and dandy and then the next someone rips the rug out from underneath you and you are flat on your back again. That has happened to me a couple of times in the past few days, but I’m only here to talk about the one instance.

After a long wait, I finally heard back from Ghost City Press regarding my mini chap, Me and Jesus on a Tuesday Afternoon. They very respectfully said thank you, but no, thank you. I spent a few moments being very sad, and then a few more moments not being surprised at all. The problem with this piece is that it is too long to be a single poem, but it is also far too short to be a book of any kind. So, it is very hard to find it a home, and I was up against a LOT of folks. I was very hopeful with Ghost City Press after a long wait and much confusion with my previous editor. Alas, I will have to figure out what to do with it next.

I haven’t felt rejection in a while, mostly because I handle it pretty well when it comes my way, so I was a little blindsided by the feelings of sadness that came with this particular rejection. Usually, I am fine with someone not accepting my work, but this one hurts somehow more than expected. I know it is because of the piece itself, which is a favorite of everyone who has read it but is not really publishable for some reason. I could publish it myself, but that would be a total kick in the bank account. It is small, and I could never charge more than $5 for it, so I would never make back the cost of the ISBN. It will have to wait until I have the ability to create such a labor of love.

Or, and this is another idea I have been toying with, I will make a full collection, eventually. I can always put my little tale of me and Jesus getting stoned on a Tuesday afternoon into a collection.

I don’t know what I’m going to do with it. Honestly, I don’t know what I’m going to do with a lot of things. My tarot cards saying that big changes are on the horizon, and I sure hope that is true, because right now I am getting pretty sick and tired of having that rug ripped out from underneath me.

I guess the best I can say is that this is the first blog in 2 weeks that I have written that hasn’t been about crippling writer’s block, so at least something’s going right.

Mercury in the Microwave

On By Brigid H.In Writing About WritingLeave a comment

Mercury has been in retrograde, which is one of those things I never used to pay attention to until I did. I still do not know much about astrology, and if I have questions about the stars, I tend to ask my sister who knows a little bit more than me. I do know that when this occurs, your life can be thrown off course a little. Well, without going into any detail, I would like to say that this has definitely been the most off-kilter couple of weeks I felt in a while. But what I’m going to talk about here, of course, is the fact that I can’t write anything.

Two weeks ago I wrote a new poem. Not even a great one, but that was about it, aside from three…count them, THREE…blogs about having writer’s block. This is number four. I can only assume that once Mercury is out of the microwave I will get my ability to write back, but for the meantime I am very upset. Not only is this blog due yesterday, but today is Patreon day, and I’ve got nothing. Also, it is poetry night, and I’ve got nothing!

Frankly, I’m getting really aggravated. I thought my creative juices were stalled because I was working so much the last couple of weeks, but apparently that is not the case because I have had a great stretch of time this week in which to pen literally anything, but here I am with nothing. I couldn’t even get up a good topic. Any topics I want to write about are still solidifying in my brain and not ready to be put into print.

I do feel that there has not been much content to share lately. Like I have said, I worked a lot before, during, and after spring break. There is only so much I can say about the job. And then I would come home, do any cleaning and cooking and whatever, and then go to sleep and start all over the next day. Not much time for anything fun or interesting, except perhaps a few sitcom reruns before bed. I am hopeful I will have more content next week, however. Tonight, I’m going out for poetry night which is always fun, and perhaps will provide me with some tale to tell. On Friday, Carey and I are going on adventure, so perhaps I will write about that as well. Plus, the girls are coming this weekend.

Right now, I just feel kind of stalled. Hopefully I can rectify this situation with some friends and fun and family over the next few days. Maybe I will find a story I want to share, or at least one of these thoughts in my brain will decide to come out of my fingertips. We shall see.  Happy Wednesday!