It's a Jackson Pollack kind of a morning

If I was a painting, I'd be a Jackson Pollack. In fact, this one might well be a portrait of my brain waves this morning.

Seems like it takes a good long while for intense anxiety to seep outta my system. I may be, mostly, AOK once the fire’s out a but the nasty burnt coffee and crank smell lingers.

I’m tired all the damn time yet, the minute I lay ma tête down on the pillow *BOOM* I’m wide awake.

This, mes amis, is my anxiety hang over.

To hear the phrase "our only hope" always makes one anxious, because it means that if the only hope doesn't work, there is nothing left.
~ Lemony Snicket, The Blank Book

The PROSE lens – that was my only hope for keeping my left eye open and functional. I jumped through all the fiery rings to obtain one of these suckers – the endless financial assistance paperwork, the motherfucking slow daily commute to and from Needham Heights for interminable eyeball exams, the not deaf friendly training and the hours of downtime between sessions. All that’s left now are small bits. Like deciding from where to order the solutions (NOT sold in stores anywhere). Amazon?  Ah…no! Direct from the manufacturers then? Also, how to get through TSA with these ultra necessary liquids.

This is seriously piffling stuff.

Here’s the thing though – I’ve still got all this tension zooming around my brain. That’s FYI, NOT conducive to getting the damn lens in my eye each morning. Ya see, I have that annoying Essential Tremor thing going on (a lovely parting gift from my assholian vestibular schwannomas). Being edgy and anxious is high-octane tremor fuel. I need to be mega groovy, all mellow yellow (quite rightly) and NOT shaking in order to get the lens popped in all good and proper.

STOP LAUGHING! I can SO be mellow and groovy! It’s been known to happen. HONEST!

Nothing can bring you peace but yourself.
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Obvs Ralph never met Coco.

Recognizing that sleep was on the DL, I came downstairs, guilty pleasure book in hand (poorly written, in need of a firm editor {possibly one with dominatrix leanings} but FABOLA kick-ass strong, though flawed, monster slaying heroine). Coco, who had been patrolling the front window, dashed over to my reading chair, climbed atop Mount Donna and commenced with the healing vibes, the purr action.

Couple hours of Nurse Coco’s furry ministrations along with some arch-demon slaying action and I was ready to reconnect with my pillow. This morning I’ll hit the gym, always good for chilling me out and later, a post dinner /pre-rack time walk along the seawall.

Oh and better still – I’m to design a new brochure for a bakery chain that I’ve never been to before. This means I GOT TO visit one – check ‘em out, get a sense of their store stylin', their image and, YES, sample some of the goods. I can’t possibly do an appropriate design for a cake shop without a lot of research. Ya know?

Hey you, keep living. It won’t always be this overwhelming.
~ Jacqueline Whitney