Thighs Does Matter

There's one kind of robbery that's the worst kind of all. Oh it's sneaky, and if you're not watching closely, you'll lose your ass. You can often uncover the underhanded deed when you're standing in the check out line at the store thumbing through a magazine, patiently waiting your turn. Then BAM! The covert crime jumps up, and smacks you in the face! Literally...

Right there on page 72. You find a shot of yourself in the Victoria Secret ad but someone cut YOUR head off your body, and placed some strange woman's face where yours used to be! What really sucks is when you start screaming about this blatant form of thievery to the people standing in line with you--they just look at you like you're a loon, or a complete loser, even if you have proof you've been robbed. This has happened over, and over, and over to me.

I finally found a way to get revenge. FaceinHole. Look at my furrrrreeeeking gorgeous thighs would ya??? My face + someone else's body. A thigh for a thigh. Brilliant! I love the way my mind works sometimes... I'm not only taking back my thighs... I'm taking back my life!

I was talking to Superman tonight on the phone and told him, "I'm going to be living with Gusto this next year." I quickly added, "You understand I need him in my life right now! One day I'll live with you..."

I realized I'd let the cat out of the bag when Opie Taylor sauntered over, and meowed, "What about me??? I thought you were living with me!?"

Lord my frigging life can get complicated so dang fast sometimes. I'd just blurted out I was planning on having an affair to Superman and Opie T.

You know what Superman said???

He said, "There's room for all of us in your life, including Gusto." Opie just purred.

You see, peeps, I want to make 2010 the best ever. I want to take every step possible to conquer PTSD so I'll stop losing precious time being sick, spending long hours at the doctor's office, and the hospital like I did today getting my Echocardiogram done. Or the time it takes to recover from being worn thin by stress related illnesses. I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired!

I've been looking for my mantra, my word for the new year, my motto for 2010, my mission statement for seizing the moments I've missed while I've been blind dating Stress. I found it.

GUSTO...
I'm living with Gusto
in 2010

After I came home from the hospital today I took a much needed nap. I had a lot of time waiting between phases of the test today to think about what I wanted to change in my life to make the quality better. So I decided to cozy up to Gusto. And it felt darn good. After being such a bold little tart, he agreed to move in with me right away. Pfftttt... No Pre-Nup needed.

So that's the thighs of it, peeps.
I've been living with someone else's head
on my body for too long...

I'll update you about the results of my tests as soon as I get them. Lawd knows I'm gonna need a good heart to keep up with 3 men... and a lacy pair of Monkey Pantz to show off my sessy, new thighs. Oh, baby!

Tour of Nostrildamus

Shedding Stress

I think my little darling has settled in.....

Yes, he's definitely settled in...

All that matters is that he is happy. I can attest the move has been very smooth as far as Opie is concerned. He adapted so nicely to the new house which I didn't expect.
But here's a curious matter I need some help from you about.
Right after we moved into the Tree House (our former home for new followers) Opie Taylor began shedding like crazy. I thought it was because of all the stress of moving. He hated seeing all the boxes, and things changing around him. Let's face it. Cats hate change of any kind. In fact, he hated my job. I used to travel extensively, and he recognized when my suitcases came out that it meant I was leaving. He shed so badly after we first moved to the Tree House I thought it was all stress, and feeling confused about where he was suddenly. But it never let up--the shedding. It got worse. And soon it became the "norm".

This time I never packed one box in front of him or moved one stick of furniture. I bundled him up, and took him to Dylan's house to stay with her while I moved. He lived with her for a week in a large kennel cage, and was given a room with a view to hang out in. He sat in her window, and was brushed, and loved and tugged on like a wishbone by her, and her daughters.... What kitty wouldn't love all that attention?

A week felt like forever not having my kitty with me. I picked him up late one evening, and brought him home--to the new house. I held him in my arms, and gave him the grand tour. I let him smell familiar furniture, my bed, and bedding, all the time talking softly to him. I even took him down to the basement where I placed his private bathroom, and took one of his paws in mine to scratch through the litter in his box so he would know where it was.

Now here is the miracle, and where I need some help. He has completely stopped the excessive shedding! I am in shock. I used to pet him [at the Tree House], and with just with one stroke over his body would have a handful of hair in my hand. His fur literally stuck to everyone like Velcro whenever he walked by them. I chased him off my bed because his shedding was so excessive it drove me crazy. I'd brush, and brush, and brush him but nothing helped.

Until now..... magically he has stopped shedding. Was it the ions in the air living on an island, surrounded by so much water that caused him to shed so much? Was it something in the Tree House he was allergic to? Was there something negative about the Tree House he could sense and caused him to shed so much??? What do you think it was? I know, I know why does it matter now that he's stopped shedding... But I'm still curious. Does anyone have any ideas or similar experiences that could "shed" [ha ha] some light on this for me?

I'll tell you this... I love this. No fur flying in the air when you touch him. Nope just a soft, silky little boy that is welcome to get up on my bed now.... Happy Happy Joy Joy!

REMINDER: Contest still open!!!
Winner will receive one of my paintings.
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PTSD, dentistry and learning to understand the "why's" of it today and this time tomorrow

My experience yesterday at the dentist went far better than I'd ever imagined. Did it come without fear, tears and dread? No. I could hardly sleep the night before. I had such anxiety my chest felt like it was stepping on land minds every time my heart beat. The most relief I felt was while blogging and posting pictures of Opie Wan Kenobi. ~~~ OK, that, and yucking myself up at how corny I am. Pitiful isn't it when you laugh like a loon at your own goofiness. But laughing is what helps me most of all to put things in perspective.~~~

I also read an article when researching one of the meds, Triazolam, I was to take the next morning just prior to my visit to dental land, that made me cry, and feel a huge sense of relief at the same time. One of the hardest things to understand about PTSD is that it affects you in ways you don't always connect the dots to with certain behaviors.

I could NOT figure out why WhY? why? why??? why? wHy why.... I was having such a hard time facing going to the dentist. It seemed magnified in my mind, and heart. I felt like a baby, an idiot, unable to control the flooding my mind had with thoughts of doom, and overwhelmed by a sincere wish to runaway, isolate, hide in the tree house forever more--broken toof and all.

Here's an excerpt from the article I read that helped me (below) and a great link to check out if you have dental phobias like me . The medication I used was Triazolam. Sedation Dental Care

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What is dental phobia and why do so many people hate the dentist?
Dental phobia is a severe fear of the dentist that over time causes loss of teeth because of the patients inability to go to the dentist and receive regular care. The heart of the matter is that dental phobia can rob patients of their self esteem as they become embarrassed about the appearance of their teeth and withdraw from friends, coworkers and loved ones.

Why do people hate and fear the dentist ? Fear of the dentist is most commonly something that patients learn from traumatic personal dental experiences. If these experiences occur as a child and are accompanied by a real sense of panic, the resulting reaction to the dentist may become deep seated, visceral and life-long. Such patients don't feel safe in the dental chair. Patients recall of their traumatic childhood experiences often includes being held down against their will, being yelled at, pain and terror. A recent article in the Journal of the American Medical Association showed that people, who suffer abuse as children, may have life-long alterations in their response to stress. If a patient suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder, the dental office may be just one of many situations where such patients feel unsafe. Patients who suffer from panic attacks associated with dental care will do anything not to have that awful feeling again. Sedation, which can block the panic response, can be particularly helpful for dental patients with anxiety attacks.

*********

Superman picked me up yesterday morning and had to talk me out of taking the Triazolam close to 23 times earlier than I was supposed to during the car ride to the dentist. I secretly wanted him to carry me into the dental office & plop my drugged, limp body into the dental chair. Being in control is something I fight to have all the time now since the accident. I hate not feeling in control. But the thought of having a drug to help me numb my fears was appealing. I doubt I'll have to go to a rehab any time soon but for this case I was ready to be medicated. I waited until the time I was told to take the med which meant I had to walk into the office on my own two legs, wobbly knees, and all.

It's probably a tell-tale sign you are the patient when the receptionist greets you with, "Ohhhhh, good morning. YOU must be the one with the appointment. Oh my, you look scared. It will be OK. Hi, I'm....." As she introduces herself to me, she shakes my hand, and looks like she wants to hug every little fear right out of me.

I started bawling right then and there, YES I did.... and the tears flowed like a leak in a garden hose for the next 25-30 minutes....until the nitrous and the happy pill, Triazolam, started working. The staff stood by me with compassion, never rushed me into anything, handed me tissues to dab my sprinklers gone wild, and allowed Superman to stay with me the entire time. He never took his hand off my foot or leg. Not once the entire time.

It took almost 3 hours to clean my toofs, repair my broken molar, remove 3 old fillings of bad, bad, bad silver, and refill, and shape my new toof. I fell asleep a couple of times with the good Dr. Caring-Kind-Gentle Doggie Houser at my side, and staff, calmly working away....stopping anytime I looked the least bit ready to claw my way out of the chair, and telling me what an awesome patient I was.... (ohhhhhh, flattery and excellent meds will get you anywhere with me... I am such a compliment ho....)

I have never EVER EvEr EVerrrrr had such a pleasant trip to the dentist.

For all of you who expressed the same anxiety that robbed my sleep, and peace of mind, about going to a dentist.... do yourselves a HUGE favor. Find one who uses oral sedation, and go.

Your smile is worth it....

I am learning daily about me and this "Dis-Ease" called PTSD. I'm learning to conquer, cope with it, and am discovering its covert ways. And everyday I uncover a little more about the Whys.... Each time I do, I stop beating myself up for not having control over every single minute of my life. Letting go is growth. Allowing myself to feel is healing. Tears are cleansing. And fears can become little pip-squeaks when you face them....

Sharing the journey with you is the BEST medicine. Thank you for reading.

Lessons from the master on how to relax from this time tomorrow

I need some work on learning how to kick back, relax and not worry. Tomorrow is the big day. "D-Day"... Dentist Date. The anxiety is creeping into my throat. I'm trying to take a deep breath. I'm creeping myself out. I need something... I need a mentor to help me.

I need a Relaxation Drill.

Wait... I need another word... drill is triggering my anxiety.... lemme think a minute....

OK how's this? I need a relaxation plan and someone to show me how to relax.

Relaxation Plan

• Find a large pillow.
  
• Roll over almost belly up
  
• Curl your hands in an adorable position
  
• And your feet
• Repeat as needed, and often

Now I need a good role model. Oh lookie what I found....

The Master Guru of Relaxation Opie Wan Kenobi

even his whiskers are relaxed....

not a care in the world.....

my hero......

my role model....

my super hero in a fur cape.....

Yes, I wanna look just like this when I climb into the chair tomorrow morning at the dentist.



Wish me luck.... and a huge truck load of Opie Wan Kenobi