A Place For Everything and Everything In It’s Place

Limbo is not fun.  Limbo makes me feel sick in my insides.  I don’t like Limbo.  Limbo and I are not friends.

You see…I’m a very well organized, detail-oriented person who likes things orderly – including my life.  When my life is in chaos spinning out of control I feel like a crazed lunatic trying to put the pieces back together.

I’m like Rosie on the Jetsons when she malfunctioned and kept saying “A place for everything and everything in it’s place.”  That’s how I feel about my life.   I need to have everything in it’s place to feel normal.

I’m well aware this limbo is creating the increase in anxiety and panic attacks.  I should start tracking them all to see how many I can get in a 1 week period.  I’m up to 3 this past week.  Thank goodness none of them ended in fainting…but if I didn’t “get outta dodge” this past Friday and leave the restaurant I was going to eat dinner at with friends and thier families I might have done DOWN FOR THE COUNT.  That would not be good.  After the last mishap last month at a restaurant with the fainting…if it happened again I might have crawled under the covers of my bed and never left the house again.  Don’t worry friends, I won’t be doing that any time soon.

So, you may be asking if I called those therapy referrals yet.  Well, the answer is a big fat “no.”  I think it’s because I really don’t feel like talking to anyone.  I’m sure it might be nice but I’m not in the mood to sit on a couch and talk about how I have anxiety for ten years and if I don’t want to do it – it’s hard to make myself.

Don’t get me wrong.  I’m ready to FEEL BETTER finally after all these years and I need to stop getting panic for no apparant reason out of no where.  That needs to stop.  So, what I think might be best for me is to go to my regular doctor and see if I can explain where I’m at in my life and ask them to prescribe me the goods.  Then if I feel like I want to talk to someone later I will already have the meds in my system!  (Sounds crazy “in my system” – uck).

If I went to talk to someone all I’d be telling them over an over is when I don’t feel comfortable all of a sudden my brain shuts itself off in the middle of it all and I go black uncontrollably.  I don’t know why but it does.  I will repeat that over and over to them and I don’t know what they are going to tell me that I don’t already know about myself.   You need to relax, don’t stress, let things slide, don’t let it bother you, let it slide off your back…blah blah blah.  I’m just not into it.

My DNA has dealt me a raw deal with anxiety.  My mom has it too and unfortunately it got passed down to me.  Yay, what a gift!

So, now I just have to call the doctor.  Too bad I don’t have a doctor of my own because I don’t like going to the doctor.  It makes me anxious.  Well, what else did you expect??  So now I will have to go to a brand new doctor and tell them that I’m a new patient, I’m an anxiety case, and I think need meds.  Should be a fun experience for me.  I can’t wait!

On another note: I miss my diamond rings.  I love my engagement ring and my diamond wedding band.  I love jewelry in general.  I’ve had to resort to wearing a ring that I don’t like on my left hand and I hate it. So on Monday I decided that I would start to wear my diamond wedding band.  Not the big ‘ol diamond engagement ring but the band that has 5 simple diamonds going accross it.  I thought about it for a while and I decided — who said that girls can’t wear diamond rings on their fingers and not be married???  Not me!  So, on it went and I love it.  It’s sparkly and makes me happy when I look down at it.

If a diamond band symbolizes marriage and a guy likes me but doesn’t ask me out because a piece of shiny metal is on my hand then he’s stupid for not asking if I’m married or not.  If I don’t need more money for a new house and I can keep from selling the engagment ring then I will take the big ‘ol diamond and make something out of it.  It’s MY diamond so I can do what I please.  Sell it, make a necklace out of it, make another ring out of it, wear it as a nose ring – whatever I chose.

Capricorn soul sister asked me where my engangement ring was and why I wasn’t wearing it.  I told her that the engament ring is going a little too far to wear while getting divorced.  Guys know what it stands for and if I walked around wearing it no guys would bother looking at me with that thing on.  So, the wedding band is as far as I will go for now – until I can rip that other sucker apart and make something out of the big mamma.

The actual RING itself means nothing to me.  Nothing except sparkly, shiny, goodness on my hand and I’m happy to wear it.  Does that seem strange?  I don’t think so.