Why I'm REALLY *Una*-bridged now. Yes, this means no-no words.

In polite society, I am a Master at holding my tongue and my usually betraying facial expressions. Oh please, get that shocked look off your face. While I am a stickler for social graces and mannerly correctness in Social Gatherings of a certain ilk, my favorite part is the run down with the hubby on the drive home! Yes, I do believe in and revel in *GASP* GOSSIP! and even more surprising, I want people to gossip about me, too...I just don"t want to hear or know about it. "But Una!" you say/think/muse/don't give a crap about "You speak of karma and what goes around and being kinder to each other to make life a better experience!" You talk all the time of having "A Life Well Lived!"

*Sigh* little bastards making me explain mysel...OH! Was that in white and black? Er, yeah. *A throat clearing followed by hacking cough and extreme vertigo.* Nah, I'm not sick, it's just Uranus in the 7th Moon...fuckin' health "who gives a crap" I mean, "care" system.

Allow me to pop another sedative for my soul crushing anxiety and severe P.T.S.D. flare up after learning of the deaths of the 4 Officers in Lakeview, WA, which for me,has brought back to the surface everything that so many of us in the O.P.D. family dealt with. The suffocating fear, panic, pain, anxiety, and sorrow from when our 4 Oakland Police Department Officers were murdered in cold blood on March 21st, 2009, while I also just learned last night (the reason I have yet to fall asleep) that an old classmate of mine, Tom, was shot dead in front of his 13 year old daughter while walking their dogs to get ice cream. The murderer killed him because one of their dogs was sniffing at the murderer's leg, so the mother fucker pulled out a gun and shot Tom dead in front of his 13 year old daughter, who incredibly, had the presence of mind to run back to the store and yell for them to call 911, *10 very deep breaths and a few tears, please" and I'll explain my gossip theory.

Ok...one more deep breath.

Yes, Grasshopper...Yes, I do speak of these positive warm and fuzzy things and in light of my recent physical limitations now, this bitch is throwin' down as much good JuJu as she can. (ooohh...I just talked about myself in the 3rd person! How cool am I?!?) Here's the thing about gossip. It needs clearly defined rules. My Shweetie is ALWAYS a safe bet for not spilling beans AND I get the added benefit of getting a gnawing, festering, anger inducing feeling out of my gut. Surprise, surprise, I don't let things go very easily. To me, that is no different than talkin' to my therapist.

As this disease and this pain I bear every damn day of my life grinds me down, my smiling, at times, sweet veneer is getting more and more cracked. My ability to hold my tongue now involves my teeth actually physically biting it.

My rope is fraying to a point of my Shweetie frantically running around in circles juggling his work cell phone on his left ear, personal iPhone that's still needing its security pin to his right ear with his shoulder (try it, it'll become your best party trick if you can master it), his Police Radio (He's a Sergeant for the Oakland Police Department) Mic bobbing up and down, and accidentally kicking one of our house phones trying to pick it up as he is randomly pushing buttons and yelling "HELLO!?!?! (he's not real good when it comes to me being hurt, sick, in an accident...Dr. heal thyself and yer family, the meowing furballs included, the big softy. I gotta give him kudo's though, he's doing the best he can with me, The Amazing Question Mark of Wildly Changing Moods) whilst a particularly very calm yet forceful Dame of mine is on the phone yelling "Oh Shit, Get a Bouncy House for her to Fall On! Shit, STUPID DUDE AT BOUNCY HOUSE PARTY RENTAL STORE, I NEED ANY KIND OF BOUNCY THING YOU HAVE! I don't know!!! A My Little Pony Castle, I Guess?" whilst I delicately trill "WHAT THE HELL!?!?!?! I DETEST "MY LITTLE PONY!!!" when the rope snaps my Dame will yell back "LIVE WITH IT, YOU WEENIE!" and my Shweetie will call out to me "I LOVE you SO much, Honey...That was a great fall! You did it perfectly!" and yes, I do need both of those energies! An unlikely scenario, but it sure makes for a good visual.

Here's another "I Spy" Guess where my general social filter went? Buh-Bye. Yet another reason I don't go out. (it's actually much deeper and spookier than that (more on that later...maybe much later...(very. strange.), but hangin' at home keeps my total loss of say, Grocery Store filter from me getting pounded by some bitch buying non-organic banana's for her drooling, screaming spawn to ingest and then get sick from all the post-industrial chemical crap Monsanto gets all the third world banana growing places to use.) Can someone tell me why every ingredient list has "Natural Flavoring"on it, yet no one knows what that is?

Back on topic now. I have a tendency towards rambling, rants, and wait, what was I writing about?

I guess what I'm getting at is that gossip, practiced correctly, is a form of therapy and can be just as, if not more cleansing because there is usually laughter involved. I don't know about you, but I can't be "Fake it till you make it" happy (thanks "The Secret" for making me suppress so much of my anger) hoping that my life will suddenly turn around and the little bluebird of happiness will flutter his little wings on my windowsill and kick my Chicken of Depression's ass off it. I gotta get that crap out, no matter how small, so it can just vaporize away and not weigh so heavily in my mind, ya know?

I've also got a really tight knit group of My Dames that are truly like minded thinkers that I would trust with my life. They may talk about me amongst themselves, but they would never let an "outsider" in and May the Universe help the usurpers who even tries to talks da smacks abouts Me's to My's Dames.

However, everyone can talk all the smack they want about me...just as long as I don't find out.

And that...well...that's the pebble, Grasshopper.

I truly meant for this post to be funny and up-lifting in it's odd little way and I just proved to myself that I can't put the abridged version out there anymore. I can promise my 1 reader that there will be more posting with different subjects, but I'm not really capable of a PollyAnna show anymore...even in my writing. It's a dark time in my life but I don't want that rubbing off on you, Gentle Reader. Take for what it is...Me living My Life. I just hope you can identify, find interesting, and maybe even be moved to create light where there is darkness. You know...the whole "Pay it Forward" thing.

Una
*Una*Bridged

What do you mean, "Slower?!?!

So, I had my 3rd Dr.'s appointment yesterday with Dr. Drunk Raisin at California Pacific Medical Center's Health and Healing Center (his last name is Draisen but I always think of little drunk raisins...whatever those would look like) and the hammer came down again. My body is so completely enter twined with my emotions, that ANY sort of procedure that causes me stress, will send my adrenal system into hyper drive, causing me to one, two, or all three of the following things...1. Have a total emotional meltdown. 2. Have a "flare up" of break through pain with fever. 3. A migraine of epic proportions, and throwing up within the first 30 seconds of waking up. Sometimes chills, Renaud's flare ups, sweating, hyperventilating...blah, blah, blah. So now, we're slowing down my healing even more. Try to convince me more that I don't have Lupus...but everything else has to be ruled out, and they cant even get to the ruling out part yet. Yeah, that's how sick I am.

That dull consistent thud you might be hearing is my head hitting my laptop. I am so frustrated because I want MY LIFE. My life how it's supposed to be. My life with a diagnosis and a way to treat it.

Here is the good part, though. Now, stay with me on this one 'cause it's going to get a little "touchy feely", literally.

Since I can remember, my mother never showed physical affection for me. She would hug only when I hugged first, and it would be the dead fish sort of hug that you expect from a woman who blames her only child for totally destroying her life. I, however, am a very touchy feely person, although less so now because it can hurt when someone rubs my skin or hugs too hard.

Now, my sweetie knows exactly how to rub my back when I go into meltdown or flare up mode. My dear, dear, dear friend's Jessica, Aileen, and Angie (My F.A.N.G.s Girls) somehow instinctively know how much pressure to use, where to put it, and how long I need it. That 4 (hopefully 5 with the Healing touch and massage woman) people in my life know this is nothing short of a small miracle for me. The right touch soothes me, calms me, allows me to breathe, allows me to let go, allows me to sleep. Last night being a perfect example of me going into meltdown mode, my sweetie knew to rub my back until I stopped rocking back and forth and started to breathe.

Dr. D.R. gave me a new supplement and recommended a woman that he trusts implicitly with my care. She specializes in Healing Touch and Massage. The way Dr. D.R. explained it to me: Like a still pond of water, the surface tension is static and unyielding, until some ass throws a rock in it and destroys the stillness...well...the pond is me, and the emotions and "crud" from the outside...well...that's the ass with the rock.

My sweetie has learned how to relieve a lot of pain in my calfs, ankles, and feet by massaging in long, smooth, even strokes, and focusing gentle pressure to points that needed it (I have no clue how he found them but he did say he could feel them and he couldn't explain how) and it actually felt good. This woman is going to take care of me and in 4 weeks, I check back in with Dr. D.R. to see if it's time yet, to move forward with the tangled mess that is my mind, body, and spirit.

This, of course, is in conjunction with my guided imagery guru with the soft pink fluffy energy and therapist, Leslie.

I know my mother issues are playing a huge role in this. I never got the physical love that I needed from her, and I'm not exaggerating when I say never. My sweetie knows all about it. If my life was in shambles, her response would be "So, I guess we're not having dinner tonight? *SIGH* Fine." or "Oh, you were in the hospital last night, well, we had to do everything ourselves." Some women were never meant to be mothers, mine is one of those. It's been 5 years now since I have spoken to her and that's a wonderful thing because it allows me to heal from the abuse both physical and emotional that I've endured.

Putting my toes in the water

The first little piggy was a chat roomer.

The second little piggy was a Forum poster.

The third little piggy was a MySpacer.

The fourth little piggy was a FaceBooker.

The last little piggy? Went wee, wee, wee, all the way to Blogger-Ville!

While I'm not exactly new to Blogging, (I did a handful on MySpace and found it to be quite cathartic) I was hesitant to start what I consider to be real blogging because I wasn't quite sure where I fit in. Every time I got directed to a Blogger page, I was pretty impressed with the professional look of it. My hesitancy grew more when I realized "Uh...my interests change at the drop of a hat...How's that going to look on a blog?"

It wasn't until an hour ago that I decided to finally take the plunge, even if it is just my toes for now. Besides, I made sure that my blog title explained what kind of shtuff to expect.

I'm a thirty*cough*six year old woman, married for the past 16 years to the love of my life, with three of the craziest, funniest, most lovable, and spoiled Cracker Cats (James Herriot reference here) you could ever meet. I'm a Professional Voice Over Actress,(Yes! That really is a career and I LOVE it) I dabble in Scrap booking/crafty shtuff, I love reading, movies, music, and TV, TV, TV, and did I mention TV? The Wonder Hubby and I are AVID travellers, foodies, wine-o's, photographers, video gamers, iPhone owners, and Home Theatre enthusiasts. I'm an orchid lovah, but can't grow them to save my, or more importantly, their life. I'll blog about that shtuff, for sure.

I also suffer from Complex Pain Disorder and resulting fibromyalgia. Fibromyalgia is actually a description of the type of pain, not an actual diagnosis.) I'm on meds for it, and am trying to get out from underneath very debilitating pain that has robbed me of a lot of my goals...no, wait...It's DELAYED the achievement of my goals. I'll blog about my progress on that, too.

I'll blog about our upcoming holiday in December. We're sailing on the Celebrity Infinity (in a SUITE!! omg, omg, omg!!!) from Ft. Lauderdale to Chile through the Panama Canal and then we're taking an extra 4 days to visit Machu Picchu!!!! I am SO blogging about that because it's fulfilling 3 dreams in one shot. Panama Canal, New Continent, and Machu freakin' Picchu.

I'm also spearheading an incredible celebration for the Wonder Hubby's and mine 20th wedding anniversary. 4 and a half years away, you say? Well, that's true, but planning it keeps me very focused on a task, which in turn helps me deal with my more pain filled days. Let me just say this, 15th century Scottish Castle just feet from the ocean, 30-50 of our nearest and dearest staying at said 15th century Scottish Castle for 4-5 days, Falconry, clay pigeon shooting, golfing, Archery, boating, fly fishing, incredibly meaningful ceremony honoring each other and those that helped make us who we are...I could go on, but, you guessed it, I'll save it for another blog or two, or 50.

Sometimes, I find odd things, hear funny shtuff, (BTW, "Shtuff" is a Mutts comic strip reference, my typing doesn't have a lithp) and will most definitely get a bee in my high strung, type A, gently sardonic *snort*, bonnet.

Eclectic Esoterica full of Sarcasm and Quirkiness...yep, that totally explains what's in my brain!