Question:
Tanya, What a powerful post.
Meryl
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Idol picks ! and if you don’t watch it tanite?
Hummm, I wonder how come none of your new found friends from ASAPM don’t respond to your Idol posts…ya know, the one’s you kiss up to 24/7. Would you like me to explain your role here again. You seem to be a slow learner.<bfg
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communication, so pecked out: ::smackin’ Elliott:: Gwen? < never mind
Well, *I* am here and thought the same thing so…er… you’re not alone
P.
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My dear Tanya, Please, perhaps this will help you. say "All healing is essentially the release of fear" and it is true. My best wishes to you, dear. Gail Michael
– Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – I don’t know how to, with exactness, approach this, I merely deem it necessary, as we’ve gotten off-track here many times. As faulty as I am with words, I’m going to describe my panic attack as best I can. Some may fine if helpful, some may find it humorous, I think most, unfortunately, can relate. "I was sleeping and right in the middle of a good dream Like all at once I wake up from something that keeps knocking at my brain Before I go insane " …I feel as if i have no rhyme or reason. The world is no longer important. My life is no longer mine. I’m panicking, I have no emotion. I don’t feel like crying, laughing, or even communicating. There is no longer justice in my brain, no life in my life. I write this as i panic, unbelievably, i never have done this before. I see nothing and I see everything. I see nothing as important, My Brother’s suicide, I vaguely see, but not really… my childhood is kind of there, but not really, every thing is tan and beige. Typing this seems surreal. My death is eminent, it towers above everything… i WILL die. The past is so not there, but flashes before me as if it is so, I see myself babysitting, going to church, my parents fighting, my prom dress, my cheerleading uniform, and it doesn’t matter. I’m doing what i normally don’t do… speak. I’ve never spoken during an attack, I feel like calling my Mom or my Dad, but they don’t or won’t understand. I’m actually crying. It feels almost ok… or even good. I still know I will die, and I just looked outside and there’s clouds which scare me so horribly. Anything in the sky scares me. It is the end of the world when anything unusual is in the sky. I don’t care that I was broke or that I’m no longer broke, but that stuff is popping up. My life could end at this moment…… and this moment is endless. Dying now seems unimportant. Is my heart beating fast? please say "no", is my blood pressue over the top? just say "no", don’t ask me if I’m "ok", just sit with me. DON’T look at me. Make it seem normal, as my world is far from that at this moment. I depend on you to kick back and be normal ! I’m alone, and breathing. I know I’ll get past this wall and come through on the other side, unscathed. I am typing coherently, that makes me feel good. The dogs are barking, I still see tan, beige. I’m praying. It seems so useless, as I only pray when in desperation. I feel guilty. My world is no longer my world, it belongs to panic. The more I relax, the more i see how useless this life of mine is, it’s merely a show. I see a little slice of heaven in my non-heaven now…. I now am looking at my Brother. He’s smiling. It’s still alll tan and beige. I’m feeling a bit better now, i think. The movie is fastening up, slow motion is coming to a halt…. It’s still a movie. I’m thinking I might not die right now. My brain should be destroyed, I hate it. The dogs need to eat, they’re beckoning. I’ll die.
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Elliot says: -There’s no way I could write anything during a panic attack. If I could, that chronograph for years to see just how long the attacks lasted. – Nope. When the attack got to the point that I knew it was one, I was busy stayin’ alive and not once could remember to set the time, – so I never knew. When asked, I say it must feel something like being thrown from an airplane, – the feeling one would feel between the time the realized it – to the time they hit the ground – would be something like a "panic attack" , – so no time to think about "how long" ect., ect., - K
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- Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – communication, so pecked out: I don’t know how to, with exactness, approach this, I merely deem it necessary, as we’ve gotten off-track here many times. I’m going to describe my panic attack as best I can. My very first panic attack is one that I can recall very well. Others sort of blur because there were so many, but to me – what you describe is an experience that your mind and body go through – and it’s not what I’d call a ‘panic attack.’ It seems more of a state of being; it seems a very scary state of being. I’m not qualified to say just what it would be considered. To you, it’s your panic attack. There’s no way I could write anything during a panic attack. If I could, that would mean that the attack had subsided. It’s difficult enough to breath, and focus is totally out the window. Example from me: ONE MAN’S panic attack (my very first): I was in Chicago for Thanksgiving, 1978. On the following Friday, we (my family, my girl friend, my cousins) were at a social function. We’d been there for about an hour – and then I was finding it hot in there, and felt a bit of trouble breathing, so I went outside to get some fresh air. I walked back inside and after about 5 minutes, was getting that same feeling, so went back outside. This time, I really had trouble breathing – my hands became all sweaty and my heart began to race race race. I sat down on cold concrete steps in front of the building, then had to lie down. I was gasping for breath, for life. Some people walked by me and just kept walking. I wasn’t really very aware of them anyhow. An old neighborhood acquaintance saw me and I heard talking. In a bit, I believe one of my brothers was there with me. Yes, that’s it. Whatever questions may have been asked didn’t really register. I don’t know if I answered or not as I was pretty damn sure I was dying of something right there and then. My parents and family were kind of circled around me for a time, and wrapped me up in a coat and got me to the car. When we got to my family home, I got on the sofa and was seeming better. Then it hit again, with the same symptoms of not being able to catch my breath, the sweaty palms, heart racing and fear that I was dying. A doc DID make a house call and said nothing. Later on, I felt the same (again). These had to be separate panic attacks, as my body WAS able to breath and took breaks from all that it was going through. There’s no way that this sort of panic attack can last too long. I don’t believe in ‘day long’ panic attacks, or even hours. The aftermath can leave one totally exhausted and messed up, but that’s no longer the ‘attack’ itself. Anyhow….. I ended up in the ER on a Friday night in Chicago. What a fun place to be! I hadn’t been stabbed or shot and didn’t have blood oozing outta my eyeballs, so I wasn’t really a priority. I was pretty OK by that time. They checked me out (when they got to me) and just sent me home. No real explanation given at all. The next day (Saturday) I went to see my dad’s doctor, who was on the high end of docs. He suggested (after an exam) that I must have had a ‘bug’ of some sort. I drove back to Indianapolis on Sunday without any problems and just tossed it off as some flu bug. While calling on an account on Tuesday, I ended up on the floor of their buying office – with all the same symptoms as described above. When I recovered from it, I was driving home and decided to stop to pick up a few groceries. In the store, I began feeling dizzy, then sweaty palms and heart racing followed. Blurred vision became the norm. That was another ‘attempt’ by panic to remind me who was boss, but I didn’t KNOW who/what panic was! This kept going on for about 2 weeks, at which time my GP suggested a 5 day or so stint in the hospital for a ‘complete’ physical exam to see just what was going on. Nada. He found elevated sugar levels, that he called ’slight’ – but put me on a diabetic diet that I followed for two years. I lost weight. I still was having panic attacks, as described. And so it goes – or rather went. I’m just glad I ain’t THERE any more. Whew! — Elliott remove yourshoes to email http://www.unitedmedia.com/creators/ballardst/ If you want a new idea, read an old book.
The first full blown panic attack that I had is the only one that a remember in full detail. I was all of sixteen years old, it was July, and I’d just gotten home from working an eight hour shift in the ice cream/coffee shop. It had been a fairly normal stress free day, I was sitting in the living room drinking a bottle of coke and talking to my mom about what we were going to be doing with all the blackberries that we’d have in a couple of weeks. All of the sudden my palms are sweaty, my heart feels like it is going to beat out of my chest, I can’t breathe, feel sick to my stomach, and think I’m going to die. My mother called the ambulance, by the time they arrived I felt normal again save being scared and tired. I refused being transported as my vital signs were okay and I felt okay-ish aside from the fear. This was followed up with a trip to the GP, and my first of may tests for diabetes. When those tests came back negitive, I got to see the ear, nose and throat specialist as surely it was asthma. I remember that doctor making my mother leave the room so that he could get an "honest" answer about my recreational drug use. At the time it was non-existant. I could have been shooting heroin ten times a day and I’d have said as much in front of my mom had that been the case because I was so terrified of the mysterious thing that was wrong with me. I was put on prednisone and some oral asthma med, which actually brought on panic attacks for me. Flash forward two years, it gets really bad agian. New GP sends me to a neurologist. He does an EEG, tells me that I might be having some sort of incomplete seizure, but it is likely just stress so take a walk everyday. A couple years later I hook up with a guy several years my senior and am introduced to "better living through chemistry." Massive self medication with alcohol and a myriad of other things, still seeing doctor’s trying to get a diagnosis. But feeling more comfortable in my own skin than I have in years. Guy ends up not quite getting I don’t want to see you anymore, and decides that it might be a good idea to stalk me. Something that’ll win over every piece of arm candy with an undiagnosed anxiety disorder. I’d quit using the other things but am still downing at least a bottle of wine every night after work, and smoking three packs a day. Wonder why? The state presses charges against him for harassing me. There was no stalking law at the time. He demands a jury trial, I have to testify. My GP finally catches a clue that I am under a abnormally large amount of stress and writes for BuSpar. A drug that makes me dizzy and left me feeling high but didn’t touch anxiety. I face a man I once loved but had become terrified of with nothing to calm my nerves. I play with a bunch of herbal crap. It was better than nothing. Finally I read some article in a magazine about anxiety disorders and say damn this is me. I take it to my doctor and say do you think that this might be what I have? He writes a script for xanax and sends me on my way. I am monumentally fearful of taking the stuff. The irony of it all in a year and a half I’d gone from putting damn near every substance known to man into my body to being scared to take a single pill that my doctor had prescribed. Medicine and treatment in America, wonderful stuff. Jess
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well, tanya pecked out that finger method….. or sumthin.. and said. i made that up about you, but i’m guessing, as i’ve lost my ASS to panic… i assume you have too, how presumptious of me. It’s right on the money – of course. I feel quite fortunate that I was able to keep working. I told my partners (owning a business is the fortunate part – and my own understanding of fairness in business) that I’d work for about 1/4 of what I’d been making, as I understood that after time, I’d become pretty limited in just what I could do regarding traveling (which is/was a great deal of what we do).
i DO understand your business, and for you to make it work is a tad more than admirable. i’ve lost my ass 4 times, this is the 5th upswing. the last one? didn’t just take me down financially, as money ain’t all important to me, i lost my Dad in the process, something that i know now, is not recoverable. and He was my Hero. The scale has slid back up over time, as I do quite a lot – and found that now, business is pretty well set up for folks like me, as most communications with both factories and customers is via email – with back and forth spread sheets and plan-o-grams – and we do (and always have been) become professional problem solvers. I can do that from your bathroom.
a rep firm such as yourself is gifted in today’s technology, to represent so many companies and survive, period… is a feat unto itself. to do it well? ahhhhhhh, i take you took tha ‘control freak’ out’ah your arena and delegated…. as ALL successful business-people do. I set up some goals for myself and shared them. It took a few more decades than I suspected to get back and rolling tho
but then again, yer very old. OOPS ! yer my age… oh well . i don’t have a loving partner like you do, Elliott, a gal that loves ya even if yer little slice’ah heaven ain’t available. She’s been very patient throughout. I hadn’t had my ‘in the car’ panic attack when we’d met – so she saw me go from "I can go anywhere as long as I drive" to "oops, now I’m homebound." There was no pity – there was nothing other than "I’ll be there for you if you’re here for me" sorta thing – with one caveat.
!…… (yet) The deal we had was ‘as long as I kept working toward recovery, then things are OK.’ I kept up my end of that bargain, and she stood by me and helped me along the way.
I LOVE HER…… for loving you. you MUST be real cute or sumthin ! cuz she didn’t do all that for yer "personality".. LOLOLLLLLLLLL i don’t have someone standin’ in my "field of dreams" waitin’ on "barefoot" joe jackson….. i so envy you. and that is meant as a compliment. Of all the movies you chose. It’s a favorite, and Janet often cries at the end, as her dad was a semi-pro baseball player. He died in his late 50s – colon cancer – so there is that "I wish I coulda said" stuff that brings out some similarities to them movie.
Janet can know that her Dad is in his own "field of dreams’… possibly and most probably, as nature is NOT cruel. her Dad is watchin you’n your life, Elliott, is what we ALL wish for, i’m sure. i’d take it off yer hands if it were ever for sale. I admit, I wouldn’t want to change places with anyone. She is a dear – and as independent as I am, I’ve grown quite fond of the girl
i’ve grown quite fond of her, myself. PLEASE kiss tha ground she walks on She just had her toes done. She’d kick me in the eye.
and so well-deserved. don’t EVER let her be tha "girl from yesterday". Nah. I’ve had my share of those. Lived with ‘em all and enjoyed it – and only loved one of ‘em. We still keep in touch, but there was something missing. I sent her on her way. Now? It’s really better every year that we’re together. I’d have thought it to be the opposite.
that is truly a "field of dreams"… i’m so glad you cherish what you have. do you know how many don’t have what you do? most. please kiss her cheek every day and tell her that you love her. loving has lost a lot of it’s glory and for a good reason… it’s not about "love", it’s about how you make each other "feel" when you’re ya love her ! i KNOW ya do. can i come live in yer house? In a word, no.
gol dernit ! i’ll be there in 3 days
We moved.
i have detecting devices ! i actually kinda feel about you, Elliott, like i do about Dr. Phil. I have all my hair, thankyouverymuch.
i said "feel"…. ::smackin’ Elliott:: and how ya know ya got all your hair? you may be missin’ one’re two, ya never know. …. and if given the choice of meeting Dr. Phil or Robin, it would not be Dr. Phil.
Who is Robin? I don’t watch any daytime TV –
then how ya know Dr. Phil is missin’ hair? except during baseball season – when I torture myself with a Cubs game on ‘mute’ on my office TV.
watch tha Florida team… tha Marlins should’ah thrown down tha torch’n said "OK I’M DONE"…… but some people never know to quit when they’re on top. ::shakin head:: thank you Elliott, you make me feel good. Yer makin’ me wet!
ewwwwwwwwwwwww i hate me bein’ all nice’n shit. makes me wanna VOMIT ! My personality style doesn’t allow me (with any ease) to be complimentary or huggy. So go vomit – I’ll take it as a compliment.
me neither. i’m not’ah hugger or’ah "omg, i love you" sorta gal, so i’ll just puke. wow… that was comfy ! ::huggin’ Elliott :: (Elliott just does sumthin’ fer me)
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communication, so pecked out: …. and if given the choice of meeting Dr. Phil or Robin, it would not be Dr. Phil. Oh, Ro-bin…. From about a week ago (posts), that’s the person on American Idol?
Idol picks ! and if you don’t watch it tanite? i’m beat ya so hard yer kids’ll be dizzy. watch it, k? I DO LOVE YOU, ELLIOTT ! tell Janel i love her best, tho… she’ll be all way happy. OK, so I don’t watch daytime TV (OR) American Idol!
whatever.. wherever y’are… tell Janet ta look it up…. she’s smarter’n both of us put tagether. I’m kinda REAL glad those references swoosh right by me
yeah….. don’t make me. hmmph ! ~ta new idea, read an old book.
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i dunno where that "E Olliott" came from, i apologize.
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I don’t know how to, with exactness, approach this, I merely deem it necessary, as we’ve gotten off-track here many times. As faulty as I am with words, I’m going to describe my panic attack as best I can. Some may fine if helpful, some may find it humorous, I think most, unfortunately, can relate. "I was sleeping and right in the middle of a good dream Like all at once I wake up from something that keeps knocking at my brain Before I go insane " …I feel as if i have no rhyme or reason. The world is no longer important. My life is no longer mine. I’m panicking, I have no emotion. I don’t feel like crying, laughing, or even communicating. There is no longer justice in my brain, no life in my life. I write this as i panic, unbelievably, i never have done this before. I see nothing and I see everything. I see nothing as important, My Brother’s suicide, I vaguely see, but not really… my childhood is kind of there, but not really, every thing is tan and beige. Typing this seems surreal. My death is eminent, it towers above everything… i WILL die. The past is so not there, but flashes before me as if it is so, I see myself babysitting, going to church, my parents fighting, my prom dress, my cheerleading uniform, and it doesn’t matter. I’m doing what i normally don’t do… speak. I’ve never spoken during an attack, I feel like calling my Mom or my Dad, but they don’t or won’t understand. I’m actually crying. It feels almost ok… or even good. I still know I will die, and I just looked outside and there’s clouds which scare me so horribly. Anything in the sky scares me. It is the end of the world when anything unusual is in the sky. I don’t care that I was broke or that I’m no longer broke, but that stuff is popping up. My life could end at this moment…… and this moment is endless. Dying now seems unimportant. Is my heart beating fast? please say "no", is my blood pressue over the top? just say "no", don’t ask me if I’m "ok", just sit with me. DON’T look at me. Make it seem normal, as my world is far from that at this moment. I depend on you to kick back and be normal ! I’m alone, and breathing. I know I’ll get past this wall and come through on the other side, unscathed. I am typing coherently, that makes me feel good. The dogs are barking, I still see tan, beige. I’m praying. It seems so useless, as I only pray when in desperation. I feel guilty. My world is no longer my world, it belongs to panic. The more I relax, the more i see how useless this life of mine is, it’s merely a show. I see a little slice of heaven in my non-heaven now…. I now am looking at my Brother. He’s smiling. It’s still alll tan and beige. I’m feeling a bit better now, i think. The movie is fastening up, slow motion is coming to a halt…. It’s still a movie. I’m thinking I might not die right now. My brain should be destroyed, I hate it. The dogs need to eat, they’re beckoning. I’ll die.
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communication, so pecked out: I don’t know how to, with exactness, approach this, I merely deem it necessary, as we’ve gotten off-track here many times.
attack is one that I can recall very well. Others sort of blur because there were so many, but to me – what you describe is an experience that your mind and body go through – and it’s not what I’d call a ‘panic attack.’ It seems I’m going to describe my panic attack as best I can.
yes… and i made a decision to Do everything differently than i have so far, i made a decision to never have a panic attack again, forcing myself to do things in another way. basically can’t do it anymore. My very first panic more of a state of being; it seems a very scary state of being. I’m not qualified to say just what it would be considered. To you, it’s your panic attack. There’s no way I could write anything during a panic attack.
me neither. and i did. i don’t know if it was right or wrong, i just forced myself. < If I could, that would mean that the attack had subsided. It’s difficult enough to breath, and focus is totally out the window.
as a professional "breather"… i kinda felt my need to breathe subside when i wrote my post. i generally want NObody around me, NObody talking to me, NObody even asking me if i’m "ok"… I HATE IT ALL SO BADLY…..the whole SCOPE ! i was breathing so well when i started writing the post and by the end, it was almost like……. maybe i "can" stop this fucking madness… because i CAME OUT ON THE OTHER SIDE ! i WILL stop it or i won’t live another month. THAT was my decision. – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Example from me: ONE MAN’S panic attack (my very first): I was in Chicago for Thanksgiving, 1978. On the following Friday, we (my family, my girl friend, my cousins) were at a social function. We’d been there for about an hour – and then I was finding it hot in there, and felt a bit of trouble breathing, so I went outside to get some fresh air. I walked back inside and after about 5 minutes, was getting that same feeling, so went back outside. This time, I really had trouble breathing – my hands became all sweaty and my heart began to race race race. I sat down on cold concrete steps in front of the building, then had to lie down. I was gasping for breath, for life. Some people walked by me and just kept walking. I wasn’t really very aware of them anyhow. An old neighborhood acquaintance saw me and I heard talking. In a bit, I believe one of my brothers was there with me. Yes, that’s it. Whatever questions may have been asked didn’t really register. I don’t know if I answered or not as I was pretty damn sure I was dying of something right there and then. My parents and family were kind of circled around me for a time, and wrapped me up in a coat and got me to the car. When we got to my family home, I got on the sofa and was seeming better. Then it hit again, with the same symptoms of not being able to catch my breath, the sweaty palms, heart racing and fear that I was dying. A doc DID make a house call and said nothing. Later on, I felt the same (again). These had to be separate panic attacks, as my body WAS able to breath and took breaks from all that it was going through. There’s no way that this sort of panic attack can last too long. I don’t believe in ‘day long’ panic attacks, or even hours. The aftermath can leave one totally exhausted and messed up, but that’s no longer the ‘attack’ itself. Anyhow….. I ended up in the ER on a Friday night in Chicago. What a fun place to be! I hadn’t been stabbed or shot and didn’t have blood oozing outta my eyeballs, so I wasn’t really a priority. I was pretty OK by that time. They checked me out (when they got to me) and just sent me home. No real explanation given at all. The next day (Saturday) I went to see my dad’s doctor, who was on the high end of docs. He suggested (after an exam) that I must have had a ‘bug’ of some sort. I drove back to Indianapolis on Sunday without any problems and just tossed it off as some flu bug. While calling on an account on Tuesday, I ended up on the floor of their buying office – with all the same symptoms as described above. When I recovered from it, I was driving home and decided to stop to pick up a few groceries. In the store, I began feeling dizzy, then sweaty palms and heart racing followed. Blurred vision became the norm. That was another ‘attempt’ by panic to remind me who was boss, but I didn’t KNOW who/what panic was! This kept going on for about 2 weeks, at which time my GP suggested a 5 day or so stint in the hospital for a ‘complete’ physical exam to see just what was going on. Nada. He found elevated sugar levels, that he called ’slight’ – but put me on a diabetic diet that I followed for two years. I lost weight. I still was having panic attacks, as described. And so it goes – or rather went. I’m just glad I ain’t THERE any more. Whew!
that all seems so un-heavenly, and i feel ya. my first "my own panic attack" is as follows: i love the morning. i love beautiful sunny days, always have. i’m a "mornin’ girl". i was sittin’ in my $310 a month apartment in birmingham, alabama, i had a ’sculptured nail’ businsess… i was getting up to go to work and i looked outside… a beautiful sunny day, by all accounts….tha stuff my dreams were made of. nothing looked real, the sun wasn’t "shining" as it literally WAS… i couldn’t do anything but wonder if my heart beat was heard across all of alabama, and the outside of my apartment was surreal. i called one of my clients… also a friend, of course, and said "Laurie, please come here, i don’t know why, just come here", she was there in 3 minutes. i said "i think i’m feelin’ weird, i think i need ta go to the ER"… she took me there and i freaked….. i said "i can’t go in there, i can’t do anything, i’m in a world that is not my world"…. she said "what do i do?" i said "anything, just something or maybe nothing, but how do i look? do i look like i feel? take me around the block, get me something, but nothing i have to get out of the car for." she got me bottled water.. GOD, i hate water..( it’s a wonder i don’t have wrinkles.) Laurie ain’t yer regular gal, she’ll tell ya if yer lipstick’s on crooked, she’s REAL ! She said "you look just like you always do".. ok….. that scared tha SHIT outta me, i was wondering if i ALWAYS looked like i felt right THEN… still, the sun wasn’t shining. it wasn’t a beautiful day. but it WAS ! i finally went into the ER, to triage, and then to the Catholic hospital’s ER room and my blood pressure was like 210/130 or somethin’ off tha charts like that…. and i didn’t know what that meant and my heartbeat was off tha charts and they put little sticky things on me and i finally relaxed, looking at the monitor and calling nurses in every 2 minutes, i’m sure, to tell me if i was "normal"…. they were so sickened by me, i’m sure…. then i finally go to a restful sleep and i feel a hand touch me and i that.) i FREAKED… i said "OMG, IS THIS MY LAST RIGHTS"? she said "noooooooo, i just want to make sure you’re ok, honey". i didn’t believe her worth a SHIT and there i was back to square one. i said "THERE’S NO NUN-CROSSING SIGN, GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME, I HATE YOU "… or something to that effect, the doctor came in and said… "i think you’re just having he said "yup"…. and sent me home with nothing more than’ah "yup". i recall calling my Mom and telling her about it and she was indignant. i talked to my Brother and he said "yer a freak". i recall calming down on my own and seeing the day a tad differently. i recall drinking a beer for some reason. it was summer and the days were longer and it was starting to look like a beautiful day. i recall "seeing that beauty" and sitting down and being real still so that feeling didn’t go away… i recall Laurie being with me, but NOT with me… she was as confused as i was, she said "let’s do my nails"… i thought "YOU FUCKIN’ HEATHEN IDIOT".. but i said "no, tomorrow i’ll do them for free"… she sat there with me til dusk, which was around 8 or 9 pm that evening and said "let’s go out, let’s go to ‘The Nick’.."… as normal as that seemed, i had trouble saying "no", but somehow i did and she went and several people came from that neighborhood bar, a community dwelling, for 20 years, to "check on me"… and that ignited the whole thing over again. i somehow learned to breathe at that moment. nobody taught me, it just ‘happened’. then ……. my Brother went off and whacked himself about 3 months later. (asswipe). could he have chosen another house besides mine and some one ELSE’s gun? nah, didn’t think so. i was not only kicked out of the ‘viewing’ among every political figure and "pop star" in alabama, i was banned from the funeral because i beat i was fine about his death, i actually SCREAMED ‘PULL THE PLUG AND DONATE HIS ORGANS, FUCK YOU MOTHERFUCKERS, *I’M* MAKING THE DECISIONS HERE AND DON’T EVEN COUNT ON ANYTHING ELSEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE". i didn’t panic at all….. i wonder about that sometimes. my decisions were final, my parents didn’t DARE argue… and yes, i went to his funeral… even against my will, as i was having "anxiety" at that point. it was a HUGE deal… it WAS my first day. i wish it had been my last, actually. i just ate lortabs and drank a ton of booze, and nobody noticed. til i MEEEEEEEEE". then the … read more »