Tag Archives: Anxiety

Utopia Anxiety

Posted on June 20, 2016 by funnygurl2

How can Utopia (noun: any visionary system of political or social perfection. -Dictionary.com) ever be a cause of anxiety, you ask?

Well, I’m talking about Utopia Con, a writers conference happening THIS WEEK in Nashville, Tennessee.

Last year at this time, I was sitting at home, trying to figure out what this event was that every single author I had met in my short six months as a published author was attending. Everyone said it was life-changing.

UTOPia art 2016

So, in October of last year, when I started to see tickets selling out for this event, I purchased my ticket. Even though neither my husband nor I had a job and things looked super-bleak, I bought one because my inner voice told me to. And I am glad it did. My husband and I are both employed at the moment, things are slightly better, and my publishing is in a little bit of a funk.

I am going to Utopia, first, in search of new friendships. I need someone to message me occasionally and say “keep it up.” I could do the same for them. Fellow authors E.A. Comiskey & Patti Keno are great for that, but I am kinda high maintenance.

Second, I need to be re-inspired. I went from knowing nothing about independent publishing to educating myself on writing, editing, formatting, proofreading, swag, even the climate and crops of Alabama! But I have new books brewing, and they scream to have improved marketing and better sales. How can I do that? I hope I will find the answers.

So, I am worried, because I am taking this big huge trip by myself– From Michigan to Nashville. And I am poor, so I am camping, in a tent. But I love the tent. I don’t really love bugs or hot weather or rain, but hopefully they will not spoil the trip too much for me. Part of me is SO looking forward to having some alone time. My son is 5 1/2. I haven’t been alone, except to go to work, in 5 1/2 years it seems. But also, I will be ALONE. No one to lean on and help me.

WARNING: This may only be interesting to others attending the same conference.

So, I present to you, a list of my worries:

– The campground will lose my reservation
– Rain
– Heat
– Cold
– Skunks (the website warned that they frequent the campground!)
– Not having anyone to talk to
– Having too many people to talk to
– No one will give me a hug
– Strangers will hug me and it will feel awkward
– Not learning anything helpful
– Learning that I am not worthy to be publishing books
– My worn tire will blow out, causing me to careen into a semi trailer on the expressway and die
– There is so much road construction that I won’t arrive until I’m due to return home
– I will miss my family
– My family will miss me too much
– My family won’t miss me at all
-I will starve
– I won’t get to see any of the Nashville sights
– My front driver wheel will fall off because it has a lose control arm and needs the ball joint replaced
– My front passenger wheel will fall off because it also needs a new ball joint.
– There won’t be any Mobil gas stations down south (I want to use my Mobil credit card as much as possible on the trip. My first job was at a Mobile gas station. For a pretty thorough description of it, read Books 1 and 2 of the Riley Sisters series ;-D )

There are many more, but I have to go look at maps and try and figure out where to park to go to the Bluebird Cafe!!!

I will give you an update on my adventure in my blog and newsletter when I return. (IF I return…)

Haven’t signed up for my newsletter yet? Get to it:  http://eepurl.com/7YhHr

Follow the romantic entanglements of The Riley Sisters in my books:
Be Careful What You Wish For – AVAILABLE NOW!
When You Least Expect It – THE CONTINUING ROMANCE!
The Wind Could Blow a Bug – WHERE IT ALL BEGAN!

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Smart Phones? Should Call’ em Anxiety Phones

Posted on May 25, 2016 by funnygurl2

Smart phones are like the absolute worst thing for people suffering from abnormally high levels of anxiety.

Landline phones were immune from such worries. When your phone connected to the wall by a cord, your only concern was whether someone would pick up on the other end and if you actually wanted them to.

That was a ROTARY phone I was talking on. Just try to explain THAT to your children nowadays...

That was a ROTARY phone I was talking on. Just try to explain THAT to your children nowadays…

Then came cordless phones. You could take the receiver into the bathroom with you. But that introduced the phenomenon of dying or dead batteries and the hassle of recharging.

People were not satisfied with only talking cordlessly within their own home. Oh, no. They needed to be able to talk that way EVERYWHERE.

My first cell phone was a Tracfone prepaid. I had to remember to buy a card for my minutes. I had to remember to charge it. I had to remember to put in the ROAMING CODE. I had to remember that I had it, because, well, I really didn’t use it that often. I had to worry about misplacing my phone and losing my charging cord.

As phones got wiser, then I was always running out of text messages (I used to purchase them in 200 message blocks-ha).

Then phones got smart. Except I am always a few steps behind the current technology. I not only have to worry now about keeping the battery charged, I have to worry having software up-to-date enough to access Cozi, Facebook, and my email. I have to manage my high speed internet usage lest I get decelerated. I have to fret about whether ABC will air the season finales I must see before my free Hulu trial expires. I have to consider whether I am on Wifi or 4G LTE depending on what tasks I want to perform.

And buying a new phone! You have to get your screen anti-scratch coated, a new snazzy case, transferring apps from one phone to another, finding a micro-SD card with always more gigs and one that is not corrupted.

My husband and I both have killed phones by subjecting them to too much moisture. But I may have thwarted that issue this time. My phone is reasonably water-resistant & it has a water-resistant case on it. Water-resistant X 2 = Waterproof, right???

Sometimes I am more concerned about if my phone has an adequate charge than if my son has had dinner yet. And don’t get me started on if my GPS setting has changed itself to battery-draining “high accuracy” again on its own without my permission.

But there is always the young boy. I worry he will drop it, change my wallpaper, erase my apps (all things, by the way, he has done in the past). Or worse, he might put it into one of his flour-heavy “experiments.” Just as long as the experiment doesn’t involve “will it float in the toilet”, I guess worse things could happen to it…

..Like blowing away in a tornado, falling into a live volcano, being eaten by a flying shark. Ahhhhh! It is just too much to bear. Maybe I should go back to a cord in the wall. Then I wouldn’t have to feel like I needed to look at my phone all the time to check for missed calls or text messages.

But I won’t do that.

Ill Communication-Official

Even though sometimes cell phones frustrate me to no end and make me just want to smash it (my husband has done that, by the way), I won’t give it up. Because they are just so fun to play with and waste time. And the only game I have on mine is alienSwarm, a sort of imitation Galaga.

Follow the romantic entanglements of The Riley Sisters in my books:
Be Careful What You Wish For – AVAILABLE NOW!
When You Least Expect It – THE CONTINUING ROMANCE!
The Wind Could Blow a Bug – WHERE IT ALL BEGAN!

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Is It Possible to be a Shy Extrovert?

Posted on February 19, 2016 by funnygurl2

EXTROVERT-Introvert

My asbestos friend always calls herself an introvert. She claims she prefers to be tucked safely away inside her house toiling away on her next book, only surrounded by other people she feels very safe with.

introversion: the state of or tendency toward being wholly or predominantly concerned with and interested in one’s own mental life. …Reserved and solitary behavior.

–Wikipedia.com

I think she is crazy. If that is the case, she has everyone fooled. She is the most outgoing introvert I know. Her kid is enrolled in a million and one activities, which she must transport her to, and often help out. My asbestos friend also volunteers all the time—and for stuff I would never dream of! She will invent a support group at her church and offer to lead it. She will sign up to man a table at the local craft show to help raise money for a cause, not batting an eye at conversing with total strangers strolling by.

EXTROVERT-Introvert care

When I was a kid, it seemed like my mom only left the house three times a week, to go to the laundromat and the grocery store. I was told from an early age that I wasn’t allowed to join anything where she would have to participate, such as Girl Scouts. I was sorta shocked when she went with me to College Info Weekend, where they had a program for several hours for the parents, but she did.

If my asbestos friend is an introvert, then my mother is a hermit. #TrueStory

EXTROVERT-Introvert joke

So then what am I?

To people I don’t know, I am quiet. If I don’t know you, I am not going to take the chance of talking to you and having you disagree with me or, heaven forbid, attack my unique beliefs. I was always labeled “shy” as a child. Uhhhhh. *cringe* I am not one who generally signs up for things. I sit at home watching television and taking care of my family. I only venture out of my warm/drafty house when something catches my eyes/ears and compels me to take a chance at an adventure that could prove to be a disaster.

Yet, I kind of like to talk to people. I have held several cashier jobs, where I checked out people’s purchases. I had to greet them when they came into the store and provide assistance. These have actually been some of the jobs I have counted as my most enjoyable.

Sure, I can sit quiet and work independently behind a desk inputting data. But if I have to do it full-time, I tend to become rather miserable mighty quickly.

EXTROVERT-extrovert care

Is it possible to be an introvert who craves fame?

I have been slowly collecting my 15 minutes of fame a few seconds at a time. When I was a kid, I had my name announced on a Canadian music video show (Miss you Video Hits!). I have always found unusual opportunities to get myself on the radio; TV as well, but those opportunities are rarer. I spill forth embarrassing events of my life into my blog to provide humor to the universe. I publish books. You might not realize this, but for every copy that heads out into the world a little piece of my heart (and my sanity) heads out with it.

It is stressful and scary and crazy to put myself out there like that. Why would I do that?

So what am I? You tell me…

I enjoy the sense of helping people. But I have to put on a front to do it. I have to pretend to be braver than I actually am. I get hot and sweat profusely. I literally have to wear a different brand of higher powered deodorant to work such a job.

I believe I am an extrovert with generalized anxiety disorder.

 

extroversion: the act, state, or habit of being predominantly concerned with obtaining gratification from what is outside the self. …Tends to be…outgoing, talkative, energetic behavior

–Wikipedia.com

 

generalized anxiety disorder: an anxiety disorder characterized by excessive, uncontrollable and often irrational worry, that is, apprehensive expectation about events or activities. This excessive worry often interferes with daily functioning, as individuals with GAD typically anticipate disaster, and are overly concerned about everyday matters such as health issues, money, death, family problems, friendship problems, interpersonal relationship problems, or work difficulties.

–Wikipedia.com

This is all simply self-diagnosis, of course.

But it makes sense to me. I spent a lot of time as a kid sitting home whining about how bored I was all the time. I felt like the world was going by without me, that other people were having awesome adventures that I was missing out on. I don’t believe that an introvert would care about missing the fun others are experiencing.

And I care too much about what else is going on in the world. I worry about it all so much that then I tend to not want to leave the house for fear of sliding on a snowy road or showing up to an event that is canceled or worse, too many other people have already showed up and now there is a crowd and a line.

Is there such a thing as a “shy” extrovert? I provide the evidence above as proof of my theory that I am this creature in the flesh.

And what would happen if a lightning bolt zapped my brain and removed my anxiety? Would I be unstoppable? Would I suddenly start singing on Broadway?

(I can’t sing, so the answer would be “no.”)

EXTROVERT-just me

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The power of social media is awesome. Click here to help a sister out!

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Always Be Yourself

Posted on May 22, 2015 by funnygurl2

TRUE SELF-hell

Yes, I am once again using my blog as a form of personal therapy.

One of my friends has a daughter who is only ten years old. She is a very normal, beautiful, smart, outgoing girl to look at her. But she is already beginning to struggle with feelings of not dressing cool enough or being cool enough. She is already starting to believe when she looks in the mirror that the person who looks back at her needs to be changed in some way. She thinks the person deep down inside of her isn’t “enough”.

That is how it all starts.

And if she lets it eat at her, then she will start to dislike herself. And once that stone of self identity is etched, it is very hard to grind it off again.

Then she will be 39 and having conversations like this:

M: Do you like me, mommy?
ME: Of course I like you. And I like Daddy, and Dave…Maybe someday I will even like myself.
M: Why you say that?

This seemed to confuse him. He isn’t ten yet.

The next few examples are GLBT related. I don’t have that experience, personally. But I still find it relatable. I only have personal experience knowing what a middle school girl with low-self esteem struggles with. Someone having to struggle with revealing a sexual preference must have the same anxiety x 1000.

I watched Bruce Jenner’s interview with Diane Sawyer a few weeks ago. I thought he did a really good job of conveying how hard it was for him all these years to hide something very basic about himself: he is actually a transgender woman. Over the years, family members found out about pieces of his struggle, but he still was not able to reveal the full picture until recently.

I watch the ABC drama Nashville. For three seasons, Chris Carmack has played the character of Will Lexington, a country singer trying to hide from everyone, including his wife, that he is actually gay. He finally announced that he was gay publicly to the press in the Season 3 finale. The writers did a good job; I could actually FEEL his relief of removing his hetero mask, even though it is going to create many more issues for him.

TRUE SELF-glad I dont

I realized after 39 years, that I should live my life by being “the real me”, and not a fake me.

I found myself in job interviews, telling the interviewer what they wanted to hear.

“What comes first, your job or your family?”

I gave them what I thought they would want to hear, not what was in my heart. If my sweet boy is sick, he needs me to stay home with him.

I don’t even feel like they should be allowed to ask that question.

I love Dolly. I hope I get to meey her someday.

I love Dolly. I hope I get to meet her someday.

In being exposed to the first four scenarios above recently, the Universe has been trying to remind me to be true to myself.

Who is the real me?

I am still working on that. I probably shouldn’t take life advice from Internet memes, but I do.

The real me wants to be positive. She doesn’t want to have to have a fake personality for the world. Other people let their true selves hang out, warts and all. I want to be that person. I want to stop worrying about if the guy behind me in traffic is mad that I am not breaking the basic speed law. I want to stop worrying if I am standing too close or too far away to someone else in the check out line at the grocery store. I want to realize that I take up a space in this world and deserve my square foot as much as the person standing next to me.

TRUE SELF-rules

I am trying to live this now. To everyone except my mother, that is.

Anytime in my life I have ever revealed my true self to her, she has reacted badly. Such as when I once put a knife to my wrist as a teenager or got my ear pierced a second time or colored my hair an unnatural color or told her I had gone to church with my friend or told her I was pregnant or that I was not planning on doing her laundry for her the week after getting out of the hospital from having a C-section.

So, it is just easier if I keep my blog and book and tattoos and my grandma’s gold cross that I wear around my neck (not because I am religious, but because it was hers) a secret from her.

It has seemed easier until recently. Now it weighs me down a little more everyday. And she wonders why I get mad when I am in her presence. Because I am so tired of the act. I want to just reveal it all to her. But then I have to hear her opinion of it, and I don’t want to.

Because the only opinion that should matter, in the end, is mine.

Always be yourself. Nothing good ever comes from denying it.

TRUE SELF-taken

My first book, The Wind Could Blow a Bug is NOW AVAILABLE!

PURCHASE as a Paperback or eBook on Amazon.com TODAY.

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Re-Post: Picky Eater

Posted on April 23, 2015 by funnygurl2

Reposting as this is such a part of who I am.

You can find the original post and comments here:

https://imnotstalkingyou.com/2012/06/29/picky-eater/

I was out to eat with some ex-coworkers recently at a nice restaurant someone had spontaneously suggested. I had no chance to research the menu online ahead of time, as I normally would. It turned out it was a seafood place. The typical conversation ensued as I looked at the menu.

CO-WORKER: You should try the seafood blah-blah. It is really good.
ME: I don’t eat seafood.
CO-WORKER: Aren’t you a vegetarian?
ME: No, I don’t eat vegetables either.
CO-WORKER: Then what do you eat?…You’re a picky eater.

I should have ended this exchange with “Pop Tarts”. But I didn’t. I admit, it is a little paraphrased. But I know how the conversation goes. I have had it a ton of times over the course of my life. And “You’re a picky eater” is always said as an accusation. I wonder if it is the same way people react when they find out someone is gay.

Mmmmm…

I EAT:
well done steak
pizza (just cheese or with green pepper or onion or ham)
cherry poptarts (strawberry* and brown sugar are
acceptable, but not preferred)
corn
potatoes
carrots (cooked)
yogurt
mac & cheese
bacon
pork
chicken
turkey
chocolate
ice cream
cole slaw
lettuce (but it hurts my stomach)
hot dogs
well done hamburgers
white rice
white or wheat bread
banana
apple
pre-peeled oranges
strawberries
pre-cut melon
pop
lemon
lime
select kinds of cheese (NOT KRAFT)
honey mustard
honey
eggs (but not a big fan)
pancakes
waffles
oatmeal
raisins
grapes
nutella
celery (cooked)
ketchup
BBQ sauce

I DO NOT EAT:
pineapple
coconut
seafood
mushrooms
cottage cheese
American cheese (unless it is from McDonald’s)
salads
chives
mayonaise (unless in Deviled Eggs)
potato salad
macaroni salad
butter
coffee
all fruit and vegetables not listed in the “I EAT” column
sausage
brown rice
olives
tea
oreos
walnuts
beans (except jelly beans)
mustard
ranch
red onion
foreign food of any kind, except tacos and quesidillas

* delicious strawberry flavored death!

Now, I realize my “I EAT” column looks like it belongs to a toddler. But in truth, my toddler eats a more well-balanced diet than I do. But I have stayed alive all these years on this fine American processed food. And I grew another being while eating this food.

You have to realize, being a picky eater isn’t a choice. I was born this way. It is a curse. It is a burden I must bear. Some of the foods I don’t eat I have tried and hate, like pineapple and coconut. Some smell so bad, I would never want to put them in my mouth, like seafood and coffee. Some I have never even tried and have no desire to, such as tea.

Actual conversation outside Teavana at the Franklin Park Mall:
SALESMAN: Would you like to try a sample of blah-blah tea today?
ME: I don’t drink tea.
SALESMAN: Oh, then you should try blah-blah. It has a very un-tea-like taste.
ME (thinking): Um, if I don’t drink tea, then obviously I don’t know what it tastes like then, do I?

Think of all the social situations that food plays a part in. I always had packed lunch at school because I wouldn’t eat the school lunch. The entire four years I commuted to college, I never ate in the dining hall. (I used to get nachos from the snack bar occasionally, that was it.) At work, I rarely bought anything from the cafeteria. Potlucks are their own minefield. It is amazing how many dishes have hidden sausage or mayo or cream of mushroom soup.

Chicken nuggets, anyone? Yummers!

Recently, at a family event, I had the following exchange with an Aunt who is the most prim and proper person. She would believe she has excellent manners.

AUNT: (looking at my plate) Is that ALL you are going to eat?
ME: Yes.
AUNT: Are you a picky eater?
ME: Yes.
AUNT: You don’t want any this or that?
ME: I’m good. I found some things. Thanks.

Isn’t it bad manners to make a guest feel bad about what is on their plate?

Why no green pepper? I can't ask. Heart racing, breath quickening. Photo: mlive.com

Why no green pepper? I can’t ask. Heart racing, breath quickening.
Photo: mlive.com

Cici’s Pizza is a nightmare for a picky eater with anxiety issues. Cici’s is a pizza buffet. They put out like 20 kinds of pizza at a time. But, of course, nothing for a picky eater. You can ask for any kind of pizza and they will make it for you and add it to the buffet. Except you have to be able to get past your anxiety and open your mouth and ask for it and not fear the rejection you expect to come.

As a life-long picky eater, I worry the rest of the world wants to reform me. (I know, I worry too much.) That they want me to broaden my horizons. I feel like the world thinks if I am forced to eat something, I will like it and eat it forever and ever. It is another way I feel that I am different. That I am wired wrong. But I should stop thinking that way. Because everyone else has their issues.

Some people overeat. Some people undereat. Some people smoke. Or drink. Or do street drugs. Or prescription drugs. Or run marathons. I don’t judge those people. (Well, I do judge the ones who run marathons. I judge them to be crazy.) Being a picky eater is my thing. Hey, I know. Let’s start calling it “selective eating”. That sounds more politically correct.

Yes, I am not wired THAT much different than everyone else. I am just a selective eater. And addicted to caffeine. And I mis-match my socks. And I have issues with tissues.

If I was a character on a sitcom, I could write great jokes about myself. *sigh*

My first book, The Wind Could Blow a Bug is NOW AVAILABLE!

PURCHASE as a Paperback or eBook on Amazon.com TODAY.

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