I is for I Don’t Think So!

Our house came with this sign affixed to the back gate:

beach
I don’t think so.
As Hoosiers, we’re puzzled. We don’t know what kind of beach the previous home owner had, but so far we’ve only had this kind of water feature:

back 40 -- with ducks!

back 40 — with ducks!

And then later this spring, we plan to get one of these water features:

baby pool for the giantesse and her minion

baby pool for the giantesse and her minion

But a beach? In Indianapolis?
I don’t think so.

It’s quite remarkable how many beach references can be found in Indy. I always get a good laugh when I see apartment complexes, neighborhoods, and streets named after things that clearly do not exist in, nor are related to Indiana in any way.

In case you’re unfamiliar, here’s what Indiana looks like between the downtown sections of every city and town in the state.

but with corn, lots more corn

but with corn, lots more corn!

I, like many Midwesterners, appreciate my native landscape, and I can think of plenty of appropriate names for places just by looking at this picture.

When your surroundings look like this, don’t they just scream words like Provence, Martinique, Seville, Tuscan, and Bordeaux? I don’t think so.
(If it does, I want you to know, I’ve got a charming 1500 square-foot “villa” on over an acre, and I will rent it to you for $1200 USD a week, just like they do in Marseilles.)

And I mean really, Chateau de Anything in Indiana is a ridiculous name for an apartment complex. Chateau? Say “Shithole” with a French accent. I can see how that went wrong, because the 6 square feet of kitchen just scream “castle!”

Aloha? I don’t think so.

Desert Flower? Kodiak? Redwood? Canyon? I don’t think so.

Also? Spinnaker? Tide? Palm? Seascape? Port O’ Call? Seaward? Barnacle? I don’t think so.

Here’s Indiana Beach:

lake michigan, 100 miles from indy

lake michigan, 100 miles north of indy

It’s important to note that many of the people who name streets and abodes are confused about the native wildlife in Central Indiana. Animals which live in the Indianapolis Zoo are not necessarily native, and therefore, should not be on street or neighborhood signs.
Such animals include, but are not limited to dolphins, pelicans, parrots, and sting rays.

If it’s all about imagination, then I’d like to live on Giraffe Lane, thanks!

and we will eat figs and kick people all day!

where we will eat figs and kick people all day!

Anyway, I decided we needed a new sign for the back gate. Something more appropriate to the landscape.

I took into account our natural habitat, as well as our disposition and eating habits, and this is what I chose:

welcome
I tried to find something clever, that might also ward off predators…something like, “Everyone in this house has Herpes Simplex 1 and eczema” or  “Fire Signs and Bad Tempers Within” or “He’s a military man with PTSD and a love for blades, and she’s an Italian bitch with anxiety disorder” or even, “The adults in this house have mental health issues and strong self-preservation skills” but they don’t seem to sell those ANYWHERE!

 

 

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H is for Harebrained

I saw an ad for free plants this morning, so I hurried, groomed and Googled, even leaving with my hair wet.

I was so excited for free plants! Particularly since one of them was 7-8 feet tall, and I have this barren corner in my entryway, which is just screaming for a plant! Hurray!

So I talka Siri. You remember, I checked Google maps before talking to Siri, because sometimes, that Siri is a bit harebrained. She couldn’t find it, but I was thoughtful and typed it in so that she could relate. She gave me the same directions as Google. So off I went down the pike, headed to the interstate, on my journey to free plants.

“In 2.1 miles, take Exit 49 and turn left.”
“Right on!”

(Free plants!)

plants

I took Exit 49 and turned left.

And then, that harebrained bitch told me to turn left to get back onto the interstate I had just come off of!

“Oh, look, a McDonald’s!”
“Continue to route.”
“No. Coke first.”
“Continue to route.”
I muted Siri and called my husband.

I was out of my familiar territories. *slurp*
But! I am not directionally challenged, so I decided if my husband could just confirm my heading north on Post Road, I’d be headed toward Beech Grove. *slurp*

(Free plants!)

Well, he checked the map, and I was right, of course. As soon as I passed that interstate ramp, Siri was suddenly able to tell me to go north on Post Road. And I was thinking, “Good grief, Siri, could we not have taken Post Road south to get here in the first damn place?!?”

Beautiful day for a drive! Sixty and partly sunny. Just glorious.

(Free plants!)

When I arrived, all the plants were gone. I was about 15 minutes too late. Thanks, Siri.

giphyDamn.
No free plants.

I took a lovely scenic drive all over the eastside today. Used only secondary roads, lotsa stop lights and traffic. Stopped at the grocery. Still faster than Siri’s harebrained directions.

Just remember, even though the voice of Siri is a brunette, actual Siri is blonde. A bossy blonde who has never driven a vehicle. If you tell her the address and she can’t find it, do not type it in. Just let it go. The plants are all gone anyway.

Maybe I should ask her where I can get a nice silk fig tree for that corner…

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G is for Geraniums

I have a love-hate relationship with geraniums.

Geraniums are unequivocally bright and cheerful. They’re easy to grow from seed, but cheap when they’re already blooming. They stand out beautifully on sunny days. They’re traditional. They’re the quintessential window box flower. They are so pretty. I love the red ones. My mother always had some geraniums every summer, now she lives in summer, so she has them often.

These are some of my mother’s current geraniums.

geraniums
Aren’t they lovely?

You know what? They smell horrendous. I hate the smell of geraniums. Like really, alawt, the smell makes me gag. Icky, icky, icky. Worse than marigolds, not as awful as vomit in one’s nose.

Here I am, back home again, in Indiana, and I don’t know if I can actually live without some geraniums. It’s one of the worst first-world problems I’ve had in awhile.

While I contemplate my struggle, here’s a really good book for teachers and parents.

geranium1
My ed psych professor gave me this book when I finished my student teaching. He said they were out of print, and he bought them up in old bookstores, so he could dole out copies to promising students.

I love this book, and I read it to my kids every year before they go back to school. It’s a tradition.

And like all old books, it smells fantastic.

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UPDATE

Lil Dog’s name is Hunter, and he was collected by his people just a bit ago.

SO MUCH HAPPY!

happy

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F is for Found

(UPDATE: HUNTER HAS BEEN PICKED UP BY HIS FAMILY! YAY EVERYONE!)

I was alerted to this guy yesterday, when my dog began barking madly. Usually it’s the mail carrier or the fluffy black cat, (Sadie hates that fluffy black cat!) but this time it was Lil Dog.

I watched Lil Dog going from door to door, scratching and crying. Lil Dog was not out on an adventure. Lil Dog was lost. I could see he was well taken care of, and wore a collar. His tail was down between his legs.

I decided to collect him. Someone must love him. If my dog went out and got lost, I’d want someone to keep her safe.

Well, Lil Dog was skittish. He seemed to like my dog, so I used her as a lure. He would stay in the yard, but every time I approached him, he would bark scared and bolt a few feet farther from me.

So I went and got some ham from the fridge.

Oh, Lil Dog likes ham. In fact, Lil Dog’s tail popped right up and I became his favorite human.
Still, it took Sadie to herd him inside.

No tags.

Yes, I know he could have a chip, but it will be awhile before the stars align so that I have a vehicle while the vet’s office is open.

So, he’s just hangin out with us.
He’s been tweeted, got his own ad on Craigslist, and he’s posted on Indianapolis Lost Pet Alert.
Hopefully his owner claims him today.

My dog has had a wonderful time playing with him, and lounging in the sun with him, and fighting over tennis balls with him.

Sassy tries to convince me he loves her, whereas I know his owner loves him. She asked, “What do you think his name was?” I said, “I’m sure you mean what his name is.”

Moo isn’t fond of Lil Dog, because he chases and barks at the cats, which makes Sadie bark at him, and then they have a big ol’ fight about it, because I guess, like siblings, you can bark at and play bow with your own cats, but no one else can.

The Mister is not fond of Lil Dog, because The Mister goes around saying things like, “No more animals” as if it’s his mantra. (I’m sure chickens and goats have simply slipped his mind…) However, he did invite Lil Dog to snuggle beside him in the evening.

Lil Dog must still be puppyish, because he doesn’t sleep through the night.

She was awake again, at o’dark thirty when she remembered exactly what she hates most about babies, puppies, and kittens — it’s a long time before they sleep through the night.

foundhound1
Let’s all think positive thoughts about Lil Dog’s return, hmm? Lil Dog must have an owner who misses him. Surely he will be claimed today.
RIGHT?!?

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E is for Experience

Our young adult children, and the young adult children of our friends, are finding more and more of their friends getting married, getting pregnant, and shackin up. This makes for lively discussions and entertaining social media banter.

married5

Every time I hear someone is 19 and getting married, I assume someone’s pregnant or those poor kids are saving themselves for marriage, and it’s gettin harder and harder to wait for the sex.
I suppose some people are positively frightened of being alone.
Or maybe they’re afraid no one better will come along.
Maybe they think it will make them a grown-up.
I can only presume weddings seem like the most magical things ever.

married2

I’m going to generalize the fuck out of this post, so if you married young, and had babies right away, and you’re now over the age of thirty and still quite happy, then I commend you, and this post is not about you.
In keeping with generalizations, if you married young, and years later, you still don’t have a baby, because you don’t want a baby, you’re obviously exceptional, and congratulations on living through people asking you daily, “When are you going to have children?” and the even more vicious, “You’ll change your mind when you’re older” comment.
And in the same generalized format, if you’ve reached “a certain age” and you’re still willfully unmarried and/or childless, then I want you to throw really cool parties like this:

married4
I hate weddings.
There, I said it.

I have been to gobs of weddings, and most of them were terrible. Several weddings involved me asking the bride if she was sure she wanted to go through with it.
I know happiness when I see it, and I don’t see it too often at weddings. When I attend a happy wedding, I am damn near euphoric, and eager to drink and dance.

I even hated my own wedding.
As soon as The Mister and I got into the car after the reception, we looked at one another and said, in unison, “We should’ve eloped.”

A good marriage lasts a lot longer than a bad wedding.

married3
See, no one can really define what makes a marriage work. I mean, we throw around words like honesty, trust, communication, and compromise, but the definitions and boundaries of those words vary from user to user, and they change over time.

The thing is, only the people in the marriage can make the marriage, and only the people in the marriage can define it.
Now, I view marriage as a secular thing, so I don’t want to read what your particular god has to say about marriage. Adam and Steve are my family and friends, so your “morality” is of no interest to me.

What the hell do 18-19-20-year-olds know about marriage? Probably not any more or any less than grown-ass people do. They just don’t seem to consider reality…

Young people say really ridiculously cute things like, “She’ll go to school full-time and I’ll work full-time.”
And I ask questions that are equally cute and absurd, like, “Where will the baby be while y’all are doin that?”
They’ll work it out, they say. Then they smile at one another and squeeze their held hands.

Young people say things like, “I don’t know if I’ll ever want children.” Well, that’s pretty vague, yo. I’ve yet to meet any couples who have halfa baby because one wanted a child and one didn’t. Unless something is medically wrong, or people are surgically invested in sterility, babies just kinda happen with sexual activity.

Grown-ass people are liberated from their parents. They’ve dated plenty. They’ve tried on a lot of different people. They’ve experienced the demands of a career. They’ve traveled. They’ve purchased a car, or a property, or an insurance policy. They’ve managed their own money. Maybe they’ve even grown a plant or kept a pet.

They have a life to merge with someone else’s life.

The older you are, the more educated you are, the more likely your marriage will last. Having faith or hobbies or interests in common increases that likelihood.

Getting married right out of high school or college doesn’t leave you any time to be yourself, as one individual. Why would anyone want to miss out on that? Skipping a milestone entirely, there.

Sometimes, my girls want lots and lots of babies. Then some days, they say they’re never going to have children. I tell my girls all the time, “You gotta have that time, where you’re completely independent. When you have a job and a life all your own. You must LIVE. You gotta drink and dance and spend way too much money on shoes and music and books. Once you get married or have children, you can’t get it back.”

you
Here are some clues you may not be ready to get married:

Your parents are still paying on your orthodontia. 
You haven’t graduated high school.
You think FICA is like the SAT.
You still haven’t passed your driver’s test.
You don’t know how you got pregnant.
Your mom still does your laundry.
You aren’t old enough to drink the champagne at your own wedding.
You need a work permit.
You don’t know your social security number.

 
fica

 

My advice to young love is to wait it out and see where life takes you. Be a whole person, ready to commit to another whole person. Make sure what’s offered is a huge improvement to your life, because marriage won’t fix your problems. Marriage will create new problems. Marriage is a lot of work. But then, I really don’t know anything, because I’m not young enough to be completely deluded. I’ve only got EXPERIENCE.

young

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D is for Dystopian

I didn’t know Dystopian literature was a thing until about three years ago when I heard it on the television. I was like: what’s that? anti-utopian?

Why, yes, thank you Google, that’s exactly what it means.

You see, I had been reading and enjoying Dystopian literature without actually knowing it was a genre. I mean, how many times did you masturbate before you learned there was a word for it, am I right?

Ironically, the stories usually seem to take place in a utopia. But when you keep reading, you’re like: Oh, that’s definitely not perfect, and so the intrigue continues.

Here are my favorite Dystopian books:

dysdys1dys2
Yes, I do love Margaret Atwood. I’ve loved Lois Lowry since elementary school.

But, there were books, classics I read and adored early on, that might have introduced me to the concept to begin with.

dys4 dys3 dys5

Yes, I read it in French.

There are so many Dystopian novels, and they are all, as far as I’ve read, really, really good.

Anyway, I’ve come to find that Sassy enjoys Dystopian literature as well, since she read the Divergent series and Matched. I’m enthusiastic about all the hypothetical discussions we’ll be having. *rubs hands together*

Tell me, have you read any of these? Do you have a favorite Dystopian book?

 

 

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C is for Chocolate Chip Cookies

We all know C is for cookie. I mean, I’ve known that since before I could say it, right?

Cookie-Monster

As tempting as it was to go with THE “C” word, I thought it was a tad predictable after B is for bitchy. Quite honestly, I don’t want to Google images for cunt.

So C is for chocolate chip cookies.

I didn’t even need to Google. I took the photos for you, and I am eating the cookies for you.

 

cookie4

cookie1cookie2

 

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B is for Bitchy

The lovely onechicklette (@1chicklette) interviewed me for one of her Twitter Spotlight posts this week.

I breezed through the questions, except when it came to the chief characteristic of myself, in one word.

I like to think I’m too complex and multi-faceted to be summarized in one word.

I asked my Facebook friends for help:
can you characterize me in ONE word? ONE.
is it bitchy?
it’s bitchy, isn’t it?

True seconded my opinion, and my mother was bitchy enough to commend me on knowing myself, and everyone else was nice, even flattering, for some fucking reason.

 

 
bitchy1
You can read the interview here, and you can read about me being bitchy in nearly every blog I’ve written. Although, you could be one of those people who stumbled upon me blogging about squirrels, sewing, and gardening, mistakenly assuming that bitches don’t enjoy some nice lady shit now and again.

 

 

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A is for Anxiety

People ask me all the time how to get rid of anxiety, how to reduce it, and whatnot, so I thought I’d make a big list of everything I’ve done that made a difference to me. I’ve gone from anxiety being a constant part of my everyday life, to anxiety being a constant part of my everyday life, BUT with fewer symptoms and less concern. I’ve accepted it. It’s not easy to accept it. Initially, I really struggled.

First of all, see a doctor. I know you’re too anxious to see a doctor, because what if the doctor tells you bad news? They do that. It’ll be okay. And if it’s not okay, you’ll die, and you won’t be anxious anymore. Besides, he might listen to you for twenty seconds and start writing you a scrip for anti-anxiety meds. “Is your husband deployed right now, Mrs. Mottern?” *scribbles on pad*

Disclaimer: I am not a doctor. I am not even a nurse. At best, I had health classes and nutrition classes twenty years ago. I make no claim to be extending medical advice to anyone who reads this blog. You must see a doctor to make sure you’re not allergic to something, or suffering from a serious condition. Wouldn’t it be fabulous if the doctor says you just can’t eat beets anymore, and when you give up beets, you’ll have no more anxiety? Right?!?

Second, find a therapist, so that the therapist can lead you through your worst-case scenario, like, “I can’t die. My husband is in Iraq, and my children need me.” Trust me, you have a worst-case scenario. You won’t die from anxiety, but when you’re riddled with it, you can’t enjoy all the living you’re doing, and that is the suck. Stay with your therapist until one of you decides that’s enough. It could take years, but you’re worth it.

If your therapist or your doctor gives you a scrip for benzodiazapenes, Xanax, Ativan, Valium — take the fucking pills. I know you’re scared shitless to take the pills, because you don’t like to take pills, they’re addictive, and worst of all, they might kill you, but take the fucking pills! On the label, it will read something like, “Take one to two pills daily, as needed.” Cut those bad boys in half, or even into quarters if you need to, but take them. Yes, you will be slightly sedated. You can still function while slightly sedated. I mean, look how well you function while being completely amped! If you take the pill and lie down, you will probably fall asleep, but while you are doing your life, you’ll feel much better. You know how smooth you feel after two glasses of wine? Same feeling.

I started out on quarters of one milligram of Ativan, and one full milligram at bedtime. I did that for months and months. I never did get addicted, and I don’t need them every day now, but I like to know they’re in my purse, because I might need one. I took a half a few weeks ago, and I’m so glad I had it.

Commit to never checking your own symptoms online, or watching medical mysteries, because we all know you’re going to die of whatever disease is revealed.

A4
Instead, join an online support group for people who are just like you. Now that you know you have anxiety, any symptom you get will most likely be anxiety, and when you’re in those forums, you will see, someone else has the same troubles you do.

A1
If you get a strange bodily affectation, like a lump on your wrist or a red spot on your foot, you will say, “If it’s still there in a week, I will see a doctor.” You will not agonize about it.

Every time you experience an anxiety symptom, you will accept and love it. You will go with it. You will tell yourself, “Oh, it’s my anxiety” and go on chopping those potatoes even though you know at any moment, the invisible band around your head will close like a vice and splatter your brain onto the countertop.
You will feel good about the anxiety symptom, because you appreciate your brain letting you know it’s given you way more adrenaline than you need right now. You will respect the anxiety and acknowledge that you need more relaxation in your life.

When you enter into a panic attack, you will find a way to cope. You will count your breaths, you will let it do its work all over you. You will know it’s just a surge of adrenaline, and accept it for what it is. You will still think you’re dying, but you’re not. You will be grateful for the small death that reminds you you’re living. Afterwards, you will drink a glass of water and do a relaxing thing.

You will look for the positives in everything. You will love more, you will accept, not just tolerate more, but really love and accept everything more, because GREAT FEAR is what you need to balance out.

You will leave earlier, and arrive earlier to everything. You need a few minutes before going in there, anyway.
When you leave there, you will stop to breathe and take a moment of gratitude.

Limit your caffeine consumption. Yes, I know, you feel caffeine is completely necessary to your life; I did too. Do it slowly, so you don’t get headaches. Start half-caffing your mornings until you’re decaffed, and don’t consume any caffeine after 3pm, no matter what. When you go out to eat, it will be dreadful, but you might develop a taste for orange Fanta or Oh No, start drinking more water. People will think you’re a pain in the ass, like they need another dietary restriction as a hostess, but trust me, water will always be a viable option. If needed, remind your barista or your waitress that caffeine can kill someone with a heart condition, so it’s a health issue they cannot afford to forget. You need to understand that a Venti iced coffee gives you more caffeine than is welcome in an anxious, addled brain.

Untitled-1
You will sleep more and better when you’re decaffed. And taking the benzos will provide a little insurance. Taking one before bed is what most anxious people need, because they can’t slow their brains down to the sleeping level. Then when they sleep, the brain heals.

Sleep whenever you can. People will go on about it. They’ll think you’re lazy and they’ll envy you, but sleep and sedation are the best remedies for an anxious brain.

You will not drink your anxiety away. In fact, if you’re taking the benzos, your drinking is limited so that you don’t have a tragic, gossip-worthy death. Talk to your doctor, because you’ll probably want to have a cocktail here or a glass of champagne there. Personally, if I drink, I don’t need a pill, but not everyone plans their drinking like some sorta control freak.
You maybe come from a long line of alcoholics, and think you’re the only one in your family with anxiety, until your aunt finally dries up and finds out she was using alcohol to self-medicate her anxiety disorder.

Buy Dr. Claire Weeke’s “Hope and Help for Your Nerves” and get that bitch on audio, too. She is magical. Read it like it’s your daily guide to living. Listen to it every time you drive. She knows her shit.

Treat yourself with kindness. If you had a “bodily” ailment, you would cater to it until you are returned to your normal state. Anxiety is no different. If you can manage it, schedule time in the spa. Get a massage regularly. See the foot reflexologist. Have a facial. Get a pedicure. Have acupuncture. Make your children rub your feet. I don’t know what you like.

A2
You will do things that relax you. I don’t know what your things are, but mine are as follows:
Walk outside.
Take baths.
Do yoga.
Meditate.
Listen to classical music.
Laugh.
Keep hands busy.

Play with your dog, brush your cat, stare at your goldfish. Pets are proven to relax us.

Stop worrying about THINGS. Can you change it?
Yeah? Then change it.
No? Then you’ll need to let it go.

And for the love of puppies, don’t worry about your need to be perfect. Perfect is stupid and a waste of time.
No one has ever found you perfect, despite your attempts to be so.
I know! It’s appalling, when you consider how much effort you put into it every goddamned day!
Aim for good enough. I know it will probably kill you. In fact, it will give you anxiety, initially. It’s a good exercise in finding your limits and letting go.

YOU GOTTA LET GO.

Accept your limits. When you feel strong enough, after all your hard work, bring them back slowly. If you’re forced, via your work or lifestyle, to push your limits regularly, take the fucking pill, and try to find a new job, a new grocery store, a nicer husband, a new apartment on a lower floor, whathaveyou.

You will find a place that sells herbal teas specifically for anxiety. You are paranoid about it, and will probably call your doctor to make sure it’s okay, but you’re looking for valerian, lemon balm, or chamomile in some variation, which is what your doctor, as well as your local herbalist will tell you. In terms of tea you can find at the grocer, I like Tension Tamer, green tea (DECAF!) with chamomile and mint, and Sleepytime tea is my go-to. If you don’t like herbal tea, then you’ll need to convince yourself that it’s medicine, and take it with a spoonful of STFU and drink it!

You will eat more good fats. You will find out that your diet does affect your anxiety, and you’ll come to love anti-anxiety foods. In fact, they’re probably some of the foods you like, because they make you feel good and you don’t even know it. Eggs are your best friend. You need some meat, even if you don’t like it, because meat has B vitamins and fat, which your brain likes to use to increase your seratonin levels. Also, being iron-deficient can create an entirely anxiety-like symptom list. Seafood is the best choice because omegas. I don’t like meat very much, but I will eat the hell out of eggs and seafood. Turkey relaxes you. Beans and wild rice FTW! Cheese and Greek yogurt are proven to increase nerve function. Organic dairy is truly important to the anxious brain. And don’t forget how much your brain likes carbs, even though they make you fat, because you’re not getting enough exercise. Eat avocados, walnuts, and pistachios, and for the love, don’t forget dark chocolate!

You will incorporate cooling, relaxing colors and scents into your home. You will throw out that cinnamon candle, donate the red quilt, and choose light, earthy colors and smells. Think sage, vanilla, and lavender, think beach house, think about muted colors and soft scents. Invigorating things are not your friend. You will come to love lavender-scented everything. Spray the linen mist on your sheets, your clothes, your soft furniture, cause you can buy that shit at the Dollar Tree, and it works. Bath & Body Works sells a whole yummy line of Relax stuff. Grow some lavender. You can buy lavender bath soap, hand soap, lotion, hair products, cleaners — including bleach, sachets, air fresheners, candles, and even spray starch.
Go support some local parfumier on Etsy, who makes anti-anxiety scents you can rub on your body.
I smell like lavender. My house smells like lavender. It relaxes your brain — science says. Google it. It’s not girly. It’s medicine for stress.

A5

You will sleep in a cool-colored room, like white, blue, green, gray, or you guessed it, lavender.
You will recognize that the human brain is formulated to know that looking at seascape colors automatically lowers blood pressure and heart rate, and therefore, these are the colors you should place around you.
My favorite color is yellow. There’s barely anything yellow in my house. My house is like, the place where blue and white went to party. I am famous for asking, “Does it come in white?”

You should order one of the many anxiety workbooks.

You will talk about your anxiety. You will not live in shame, you will not hide it from your family and friends, you will not carry this burden alone. You will tell people that a touch or a hug goes a long way, or let them know that you appreciate that time they spent 4 hours on the phone with you when you thought the chest pains would kill you.

Find out your triggers. Talk about your triggers with your therapist and anyone else who’s willing to listen. “When I think about the loser my daughter is dating, I feel like a failure. When I think about it, I feel like I can’t breathe, and my chest aches. I feel like I will never see her again. I even get nightmares about it.” You’ll be surprised at how many people understand, even the silliest ones, “But the mayonnaise was touching the cheese, so I couldn’t eat it, and I couldn’t even bear the thought of other people eating it!”

Have a person you can call or text when you’re at the pinnacle of anxiety. Have several of these people, so you don’t need to panic about the one person not being available.

So yes, A is for Anxiety, but it’s also for Acceptance, Adjustment, Allowance, Agreement, Agenda, Ativan, Alive, Amendment, Aspiration, and Achievement.

A

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