G.A.D.

Though I have been told…I am wonderful at small talk; I am trembling on the inside.  The chips on my shoulder provide me with enough distance from others.  And, my smirk, is just an incentive towards personal space.

I have generalized anxiety order.  I know that I am not alone with this.  But in the middle of full blown jitters and racing thoughts…I am alone in a crowded room.

hello-my-name-is-anxiety

7 Things People With Generalized Anxiety Disorder Wish Others Would Stop Saying

“Stop thinking about it.” Don’t you think if it was that easy I would not think about it? It maybe easy for you, but as a person with GAD I have to practice the coping strategies I’ve learned in therapy. And sometimes I can’t even do that. So telling me to not worry simply does not cut it.

“Everyone feels anxious.” Yes, everyone feels anxious, and it is completely natural. Anxiety actually pushes us to get things done, but when your anxiety stops you from being able to function, guess what? That’s a problem.

“I’m stressed too.” Not to discredit your stress, but you are certainly discrediting ours. What you do not understand is that we have a hard time controlling our thoughts, and whether you realize it or not, no matter how small it may seem to you, our anxiety tends to maximize everything.

“I know how you feel.” Unless you have GAD you do not know how I feel, so please stop saying that you do.

“You need to calm down.” When people suffer from GAD, there are times when his/her anxiety is through the roof and it takes me time to calm down. It is always a three-ring circus going on in our heads. That advice is like telling someone who is sick to stop coughing. So no, we cannot calm down right now.

“You are doing too much.” (Translation: “You are being dramatic.”) Thank you for your words of comfort. We know our thoughts can be irrational at times, but that is how our brain works. Can you imagine 1,000 tabs on your computer are opened, and you cannot stop new tabs from opening? Well, that is how we feel. Just because our disorder is invisible does not mean it is not real.

You worry too much.” Yes, we worry too much and we know that, but if you have not figured it out by now, we cannot control it. Telling us we worry too much does not help. We were already worrying about 50 things prior to this unnecessary statement, and now we are worrying about worrying.

T-Kea Blackman

 

 

One Toke Over the Pain…Sweet Jesus!

Due to age, injury and heredity…I have degenerative arthritis.  It is what it is.  Everyday for me is a ‘act as if day.’

Act as if there is no pain.  Act as if the zen like walk outside isn’t, on occasion, interrupted by searing pain.  Act as if…all the pain medication…produces relief.

Yet, Big Pharma, and, the doctors would rather see me on chemicals to which…we really do not realize what their repercussions…will be.

Further still, when I inquire about the healing use of medicinal marijuana…I am just encouraged to keep on popping!

Jim Belushi is far from the first celebrity to get into the legal pot game. Stoned luminaries like Willy Nelson, Snoop Dogg, Tommy Chong, and the Marley family are selling pot with their names on it in multiple states across the country, but Belushi’s doing something different. These other celebrities have simply created a brand that they then license to pot farmers, whereas Belushi is actually growing the pot on his own property, often with his own hands.

Belushi started slowly, first with a small medical grow three years ago and then transitioning into a full recreational farm with multiple outdoor and indoor gardens. He’s been selling his carefully curated set of strains for two years but only recently decided it was time to put his name on the label. Pot shoppers in Oregon can now buy weed from Belushi’s Farm.

I caught up with the former Saturday Night Live (SNL) star by phone a few weeks ago. The actor and musician’s voice was hoarse from singing at a community party he throws on his farm every year. We talked about what it’s like growing legal pot, working with David Lynch, a vape pen of his that’s been making the rounds in Beverly Hills, and how he thinks medical marijuana could have saved his brother John Belushi’s life.

Do you think if medical marijuana was around then it could have helped him?

I think what we know about marijuana today, if we knew in the ’70s, a lot more people would be alive, including my brother. Danny Aykryod said, ‘If your brother John was a pothead he would be alive today.’

The medicine of marijuana will help prevent the collapse of families. I came from a collapsed family and the trauma of John’s death, you could imagine, and I’ve always been in search of family because of it. And this family of marijuana cannabis people is a terrific family. They’re all being led by the plant.

But the wellness of cannabis is not just for Alzheimer’s, headaches, anxiety—it also enhances the sound of music. It sparks creativity. It enhances the taste of food. It enhances the touch of your lover’s skin. It also gives you euphoria, a sense of joy, and a higher consciousness. So there’s wellness all across.

lester black/thestranger.com

 

I’m not OK with Gay!

Identity on CrackIf I were to die tomorrow, found by an unknown and the parents were called in for questioning, if Mother Theresa and Father Floyd needed to identify the body; they would not know want to look for!
Up at the Cinema on the heights I currently sit, awaiting the fantasy film of the week. I am invisible, I am alone and I am no one to anyone around me.
What worries me is this;
My mother picks out my clothes. She won’t let me wear men’s jeans. We have matching shoes. She makes my appointments for spray tanning during the winter months because as she puts it,
Ambien, you just look so pasty and unhealthy!”
Theresa does not allow me to wear hats for hats remind her of gay people. She gives me my chore list in the morning and I receive no ‘Atta girl’ until the list is done.
When I volunteer somewhere to make this world a better place, Theresa has already told me that I am not allowed to touch the paperwork.
My mother dictates where I go, who I see and my sexual identity.
My father. Well he just balances my checkbook?
For all outward appearances in the tiny theater awaiting Bella my heroine, no one would know I was a college graduate. My life is planned; therefore, I need not worry.
Yet, worry I do. I know it is unusual for anyone to tell another adult who they can and cannot love. It is just that I don’t think I care that much.
I live for the Bella’s of this world, the Pocahontas’s, the Twilight’s last gleaming and eternal love affair.
Do I have a need to ride off into the sunset with a woman? No!
Women and I don’t mix because my mother tells me so. They are too controlling, too wanting of my attention and too much a female and not accepted by the moral majority.
But, Mother, the sex is good with women!
When I sit alone in the dusty theater watching an actress on the big screen, I hold my breath and think, I could do that! I could nail her!
Are women attractive to me? Certainly not! Older women, younger women, women friends should never be allowed to enter the forbidden zone, sex devientcy!
So, I make the most of it with toys and the occasional, masturbating in the back of the movie theater. I am quiet in my rhymic responses to myself. I arch and ache at the ‘once upon a time’ scenario.
I’ve been told by many that I don’t stand a chance with a ‘real’ relationship. A ‘real’ relationship would require giving of one’s self and understanding that identity is part of the process.
As the Twilight begins to open, I wonder about my mother and me. Our sordid relationship. She is just out of reach, just one Clonapin short of stealing my identity.

Marked for Life

Hope to always lie!
Hope to always lie!

Tell me, how politically correct is it to have your legal unfit in her own well breed way, mother, dress you?  Tell you that you’ll never find someone?  Of course, that is a drunken bi-curious story for another time.

I suppose at twenty something the stains I left on others were only remnants of the fairy tale life I began to believe in.

Santa!  Bella!  Vampire!  Happy endings!  Chocolate chip pancakes and chocolate milk.  My whole being had been reared by the wicked Adopt-A-Mom, from the very beginning.

Who else but a sexually deprived and loveless mass of blood and muscle, tooth and silver spooned speech, aged woman; tells her bought at a fair market price, daughter where her redneck birthmother is?  Who spits out at every dining experience around the white bread made of mahogany setting for eight- dinner table,

“you are just as fucked up as your mother is!”

How could I have ended up any different than I am now?  Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Borderline personality, Manic Depressive!

Every out of the way school I ever attended allowed me in on money not merit.

I spray myself with convenience store Smoke B Gone!  I ride with all the windows down in the car an hour after I’ve smoked.  I have a ball and chain and I don’t want to be married to her.  I want her docksiders to not match mine!

I suppose the addiction to Straight Porn is a release.  Sort of a form of Anger Management between myself and myself.

Did I say, I’m an adult, I hope so.  I don’t really feel like one.  My only hope in life was to be a famous pole dancer or lap grinder.  The feel of my nakedness is the only thing that turns me on.

Damn, if my Adopt-A-Mom wouldn’t be aghast by that.  Walking around during the company’s Christmas Party.  Showing off the newly purchased Grand Father clock, bragging to her colleagues about how her daughter is fresh out of diapers and fresh out of college.

Quickly the smug group glides upstairs to the forbidden zone.  The attic.  No, knock.  No sweetie, it’s Mom.  Just the quiet opening to a world of forty pounds overweight and deep into Deep Throat daughter.

Stain tha Mom!