And yet

I never write in the evenings,
and yet here I am,
sitting on the couch wondering
what has happened and whether
I should get my Happy light out
and turn it on.

I forgot,
it’s that time of year
when the sunlight reduces
and I get SAD.

I did go to the second
acupuncture visit and
he did a kinesiology screen on me
and determined that I
was out of balance
(unbalanced, stuck in my
head and made me giggle.)
I pointed out that my arm hurt
at the shoulder and it was
too tired to give much
if any resistance.

However, I have been told
that my nervous system
is running in fight or flight mode
and has been for at least 13 years.
My sympathetic nervous
system is in overdrive,
so I can deal with emergencies
and my parasympathetic nervous
system remains dormant
as I never seem to
make it into a relaxed state.
See the section on autonomic nervous system.

So, I was in the lying
(chickens lay eggs)
face down on the table,
face squished into the
“you will breathe, but
never feel comfortable
head support”
with needles being
inserted in my spine
and one hurt a lot.
I said, “OWWW!”
and started to cry.
He asked if,” I was okay?”
I said, “Yes, no, not really,”
then started laughing in
a not happy,
sort of hysterical way.

Open the floodgates,
of course, it is hard
to precisely insert needles
into a sobbing client.

He said, we’ll do things
differently, so he put a
bunch of needles in my ear
to help with the anxiety.

He also changed the music
to make sure I was able to
relax without the influence
of words entering my brain
while I was being treated.

The average
Chiropractor/Acupuncturist office
doesn’t have privacy white noise
machines like a therapist would.

Also, patients with
hypersensitive dog hearing
are probably not normal visitors.

I could hear everything
in the office,
down the hall and
out the front door.

Then, I could hear the
list making and accusations
in my head and I had to make a
conscious effort to hum
to block out the
constant internal monologue.
I began to hum, harmonizing
with the music he put on.

I didn’t recognize any of it,
new age-y swirl music
without a driving dance beat
but it allowed me to
block the words that never stop
flying by in my head at high speed.

He came back after a long while
after treating another patient.
I had stopped sobbing
a while back and didn’t feel the,
“drive to the appointment,
you’re going to be late anyway,
so why bother,
you need this,
so go anyway,
just in case he
has time to see me,
he’s going to yell at me,
why can’t you get out the door on time,
EVER
what makes you late everywhere?”
feelings of
failure
accusation
panic.
So that was good.

By the way,
I have never been this ill.
Over four decades
I have had highs and lows,
but acute I am not
with my symptoms.

My th-ist thinks I have
created some kind of resistance
to my medication
which is a nice way of saying
it no longer works for me.

Yeah, up shit creek without a paddle.

My psy-ist increased all my meds
“cause more is better,” right?
No, I don’t think so.
Adding more air to a flat tire
still gets you nowhere
on that flat tire.

This is why I moved away
to fix what was broken
in spite of,
not in addition to
my children, my ex spouse,
my house, my car, my building,
my psyche.

The Flexeril and Prednisone,
made my anti
depressant/anxiety cocktail
feel like I wasn’t taking anything at all.
That was really comforting (sarcasm.)
Two sets of pills in a week
can undermine
what was almost barely working
for years until the
dimethamphetamine fiasco
kicked off my downward slide
into the mudpit of depression.
From the bottom of the
slimy ick pit
off the edge of the
not so fun slide,
I silently scream
for help while sobbing.

It sounds like sobbing
on a massage table.
Ah-gasp, uh-gasp, ah-gasp,
gasp, gasp, gasp, gasp,
these are more motions than sound
like choking while quaking
from the inside out.

AFLACK, AWACK, WACK,
WACK, Awack, Awake.
UHHHHUUUUUUUUUPPPPPPP!
Up Up Up Up Up Mummie! Hey.
Girlie gives up on bed play
and forces another sunless day
into consciousness.

I think she is a small earth deity,
with loud feet and not so gentle
voice commanding my attention
from my self absorbed examination.

UH UM UH UM
thump thum thump,
you me gooey goey gooey,
my my me.

I know she is practicing
how to singsong talk.
She still uses her feet
in addition to her hands to
thwart my diapering attempts.
If I didn’t have wall to wall carpeting,
I would let her run naked
through the house.
I don’t have confidence
in my carpet cleaning skills
No one wants to be known
as living in a house that smells of pee.

She is fed up with the clothes,
the dressing,
the covering of her bey.
Perhaps, she does not
have enough time spent
with her belly button.
Could there be feelings of loss?
Or, is she just a toddler???

My little Ninja knows
the martial art of
babyfoot monkey style.
She can fight diapers
evil, anxiety and depression
throughout the winter.
I suspect we will be
outside all winter long.
Cleansing the house with sage,
green tea and toddler laughter.

Advertisement