Soul Thumping

Musical chairs - A Childhood Game Responsible for My Nightmares

Last Friday Poseidon and I were hosting one of our legendary fire pit parties and as I carried chairs from the patio to the yard, I had a kindergarten flashback that stopped me cold in my tracks (literal tracks...I was trying to step in my existing foot steps each time I carried a chair):  Musical chairs.  I hated this game with every fiber of my being.  Pressure.  Pressure to win, to be the victor.  Pressure to get through this rot of a game without embarrassing myself.  The word "game" implies fun.  Evil trickery!

If you've read any of my previous posts, my aversion to most childhood games, not just musical chairs (the Chutes and Ladders post is eerily similar), is well documented.  Stress and anxietal depression are my long-time pals (the kind of friends you really don't want to play with but are too shy to say no to them), and competitive games were enough to make me sweat and tremble in sheer terror (fortunately, I was usually able to stop short of vomiting), and musical chairs was among the worst, in my opinion.

On one particular occasion when playing this game, I remember wearing a red dress with red socks and black shoes.  I was so nervous and hoping to heck I would be near a chair when the music stopped.  The anxiousness of it all turned me a nice shade of white (which I'm sure looked lovely against my red dress, red socks and black shoes).  There were three of us left, and two chairs.  The music played and played and played.  I was ready.  As soon as the music finally stopped, I turned to plant me behind in one of the remaining seats, but one of my little black patent leather shoes had other plans for me, and headed in the opposite direction.  I ended that round of musical chairs with my behind on the floor, not in one of those two seats.

Luckily, I kept my dignity in tact by not exposing my ruffled panties or this ending would have been much worse...written from behind the walls of a padded room, wrapped in a nice warm straight jacket, typing with my nose.

 

--Fortuitous Observer

Getting a Haircut and the Looming Drama that Comes Along

Is it wrong to take a handful of valium before my hairdresser has cut one hair on my head?  I like new, fresh haircuts.  I don't like getting my haircut.  Sitting in the chair, making small talk with my hairdresser (don't get me wrong, I love, love my hairdresser), anxiously awaiting the outcome is excruciatingly painful for me.  I would rather be lambasted in the nose with a cast aluminum meat tenderizer.

I bring this up because I have an appointment with my hairdresser this afternoon.  She does a great job in coloring the little grey hairs that keep sneaking in (those jerks), and she is very creative, offering suggestions for my length, layers, new styles, etc.

I think it all boils down to a C O N T R O L   T H I N G.  I'm sitting helplessly in a salon chair that can be pumped up or down at the whim of my hairdresser, with a smock wrapped around me like a straight jacket while my hairdresser, whom I don't know all that well, is hovering over me with a pair of sharp scissors.  I'm subconsciously concerned about escaping with my life should the need arise.  

I don't understand it really, but I just accept the fact that haircut = drama.  I've never once had an  incident while getting my hair cut--other than coming away with a few lousy dos that I don't talk about, except with my therapist.  Someday I would like to be able to confidently walk in and request a T w i g g y
haircut, but I don't have the face for it and the end result may push me over the edge.

 

 

--Fortuitous Observer

Self Overhaul. Presto...I'm Now a Flake! - Managing Anxiety and Depression

You know the over-used adage:  "If you can't be 'em, join 'em" (this is my more colloquial version of the saying)?  I've gone and done it.  After spending decades trying to "cure" my chronic depression and anxiety with slight results, an epiphany of sorts led me to this realization:  there is no cure for anxiety, depression and stress.  There just isn't that one magic bean I have been hoping for to make me anxiety and depression-free.

In my early twenties I began a daily regimen of anti-depressants that seemingly helped with obsessive thoughts and I believed for a while I was "repaired," until my next episode of depression came out of no where.  Meds and therapy for the next decade, same results.  Last year, 2 years ago I added neurofeedback to the mix.  Magic bean?  No, but it has helped me re-train my brain to function more appropriately to stressful plights, allowing me to react more rationally in situations rather than immediately going into super-charged anxiety mode.  Without the neurofeedback, I doubt very much I would have had my revelation, which in 2 months time has led to an entirely new way of dealing with myself, and an arsenal of new tools I'm incorporating into accepting and, dare I say, embracing my anxiety and depression.

The phrase for today is "managing."  There is no "curing" anxiety and the related depression, it all comes down to accepting it is there, thereby "controlling" it so it doesn't control me.  I accept that I'm going to be anxious most hours of the day, breathe my way through it, and decide to function after all.  It is that simple (though it has taken me a rather long time to reach that mesa).

Now what?  The crow sandwich part.  I have myself become one of those people I haughtily judge as "flakes."  I'm taking a more holistic approach to living with anxiety and depression since I now realize the anxiety fairy will never leave the magic bean under my pillow.  I'm eating "happy" foods (see my earlier post on happy foods), I'm having massages, I'm researching homeopathic doctors and acupuncturists in my area, I've started seeing a chiropractor to repair some of the damage my anxiety and stress has inflicted on my poor innocent spinal column, and I'm continuing my neurofeedback (though I'm down to monthly instead of weekly).

I repeat positive mantras to myself throughout the day, and I'm attending online "anxiety and the creative soul" seminars, and I am now attending group meditation each week. 

I continue to take my antidepressants daily, but will remain at my lower dose.  I just purchased a new set of relaxation and meditation cds that use brainwave entrainment technology on my alpha, theta, and delta waves, similar to the neurofeedback, and of course, I still run a few nights each week because the endorphins are the star player in knocking the wind out of anxiety and depression.

The most important change?  I breathe.  Breathing is critical to punching my way out of the anxiety paper bag.  I was not aware, until my therapist told me last year, that I'm breathing from my chest, and not my diaphragm, which does not give my brain enough oxygen.  OK, done!  I've practiced breathing enough that it has become automatic.

Another hugely important issue came up a few months ago:  I was diagnosed with hypothyroidism and have been prescribed Synthroid.  Depression and anxiety can be caused and exacerbated by thyroid issues, so I urge everyone to have blood work done and make sure they test your thyroid!  I know, it is yet another pill I have to take everyday, but it is most certainly worth it!

Presto...no magic beans, but now that I'm a flake, I have yet another great reason to laugh at myself.

 

--Fortuitous "Flaky" Observer

Oatmeal and Peanut Butter Make for a Happy Breakfast

In 2009 I blogged about a spoonful of peanut butter for breakfast because that was my choice for the all-important first meal of the day, and I had nothing better to write about that morning than what I ate for breakfast.  I then added half a banana to the mix and breakfast became a spoonful of peanut butter and half of a banana.  I christened this my "Elvis Breakfast" for kicks.

Recently I read an online article, published by Redbook I believe, that discusses foods that can improve mood.  The witty title of the article is "Happy Meals" and I found it to be an enlightening piece, especially for those of us trying to get a handle on stress, lousy moods, or anxiety and depression.

Desiring another tool for my arsenal against my own anxiety, I decided to make a conscious effort to incorporate some of these foods into my diet.

But wait, peanut butter is not on the happy list!  "Okay," I thought, my breakfast plan is going to have to change.  Peanut butter, I will miss you, but as it turns out, the first peppy food on the list is oatmeal and I like oatmeal.  Another trick I've added to my repertoire of defensive against anxiety/depression is to cut out as many preservative-filled foods as possible.  I had purchased the Weight Watchers brand oatmeal, but it left a strange after taste in my mouth (I could be wrong, but it probably contains aspartame or another sugar substitute), so I nixed the WW brand and switched to Mom's Best Naturals Better Oats brand.  I stumbled upon this brand in the "Natural" section of my grocery store.

This oatmeal for breakfast routine was working very well, then I remembered another goodie on the good food list, walnuts, so I started tossing some walnuts in my oatmeal to liven up the party.

Even though I had embraced my new breakfast plan, I began missing my spoonful of peanut butter and my half of a banana in the mornings.  Last week I had a flash of brilliance (which does not happen often):  oatmeal and walnuts are good for the brain and the body, and peanut butter and bananas are good for the body (even if they failed to make the cut for the "happy list"), so why not marry them, creating a breakfast of ambrosial harmony?

So I did.  My oatmeal is now sprinkled with walnuts and bananas, and I have a teaspoonful of peanut butter every other day with my oatmeal.  Me, my oatmeal, my peanut butter, and my half of a banana are blissfully happy!

 

--Fortuitous Observer