Pacing Work

I don't have ADD or ADHD. I'm driven but I don't see mania although I'm grateful to good careful doctors who won't take their chances with my life.

I've. got PTSD. No Axis II. Axis III "Enigma". High histamine and perimenopause.

And now I've got to pack a car and drive back east in time to till me a late garden and plant some beans and winter kale. It's a slow leisurely life...someone else will harvest the corn and then I can walk the woods picking pecans.

I have a nice slow gear.

But...I talked to my boy and he kept saying I have time, take my time, he can fly out and I realised.. I haven't been planning a move...but an evacuation...not relocating but bugging out...acting like the law is on my tail or the river's risin'.

I go fast or I go slow but I have no middle gears. Never have had. Daddy had PTSD and what I have. Men get me. Men with PTSD get me. Women don't. Women with a lot of PTSD men get me. Let me be. So I'm not completely lonely and unfriended. But...

My garden soothed me...and it was a rented urban weedlot. I might heal on my own land. I might find nature's pace. It helps that I can't afford to burn the electric lights.

But I've got to get there LOL!

PTSD got me at eighteen.

The best advice for it is found in Somerset Maughams novel The Razors Edge. Hard physical labor and yoga and philosophical inquiry will heal it.

The house is furnished. I only have to pack art and clothes. It's still hard to leave here.

Am I using PTSD as an excuse not to pack because I'm lazy or do we really get sufi-like? Ive had peace pilgrim fantasies for a long while now.

Is it ok to leave it all but the art and essentials?

Teacake, Get organized and start packing. You never know when the weather will change. So get on it if you want to get your late garden planted. Sounds so peaceful!

Motion.

Yesterday, my new T said trauma is "a disorder of time." Which it is. He meant that the threat response switch is stuck in the on position after the threat is removed, so it always seems that we are living in a time of threat.


I've got soldiers on my payroll
Standing guard on my front drive
Snipers on the roof poised at those
Who don't want me alive
Cause they audited my taxes
My family under threat
Cause I've got a message and a megaphone
And I'll scream it to the death

Gasoline, Sheryl Crow

Motion. It is also a disorder of motion, at least in my mind. Because it results in a state of perpetual motion. In trying to explain that I couldn't stop moving, it was interpreted as evidence of mania. But mania is based in positive emotion, the high, the "feeling great" of hypomania transitions to the brain running so fast it overloads and the product comes out jumbled, disjointed. My motion was never based on anything but fear. I moved because I was terrified not to. I moved because a moving target is harder to catch. I still move out of fear.

Teacake, I utterly understand what you meant when you said you have no middle speed. Neither do I. I have go and stop. Stop only happens now when I hit the wall. Last night was such a night. No bike rides at 3am, no in bed at 12 and up at 2:30 with 2 1/2 hours watching Netflix in between. Just collapse into sleep. All night. I felt more rested this morning than in a long time. It isn't a new pattern or choice, I just hit the wall. In cycling, we say "I bonked" - out of energy, a hypoglycemic crisis on the muscular level. I ran out of energy. I bonked, and no amount of caffeine could stop it. So I slept. Finally.

Back to motion today. Work all day like a dog, work out tonight like a demon. I have no choice, I am running for my life, away from some very determined, very frightening enemies, those who don't want me alive, or want me shamed, broken, degraded, and crazy in a psych ward. Too bad they are only in my mind, a perceived threat that never should have been.

So...I posted an ad and some guys came to take away a washer and dryer. They told me a sad story about their truck broke down. They told me they buy washers and dryers to repair to sell to vets.

I have ptsd. I have the kind I can tell when two old men are lying to me.

Those vets don't have a lot of money to buy a washing machine.

I forgot about my broken part when I posted the add (for real) so I was willing to drop the price by ten dollars less than they dropped it because of the vets and the transmission. The liars.

So here's the thing. They triggered me by lying to me. Now I'm convinced they gave me bad money. I don't have a license plate or a cell phone. Just an email. Hahaha if they did. They hauled that away for free. But...I've got to watch that I don't go big paranoid.

A garter snake put me in the hospital all drunk and now I can only buy a beer in a bar I got put on the wrong medicine too. Just the suspicion about the money is tensing up my shoulders. It's how it starts.

I'm sure the bills are fine. The men looked guilty because they lied about the truck and the vets. And they talked like home. Like farm country. And I am wide eyed and innocent. I can lie like the devil cuz I don't. But I did ask of the vets needed my bed. I guess that's why the man looked guilty. His money is good.

Should I ask for twenties? LOL!

I didn't see this before.

Isn't that how kids go, full speed until they bonk? I like it myself. Empty out the sugar. Burn down to nothing. We are meant to work physically.

My dad always said there is no such thing as ptsd you only need to get some physical exercise and the best physical exercise was yardwork! He's right of course but we didn't know then. He scattered coffee cups all over the yard, black coffee two sugars. I'd gather the white cups in a basket at dusk. A dozen of them. "Hon? What did you do with the coffee cups?". He really had no idea. He smoked. And for a while he drank Canadian whiskey. Circle by the kitchen to drop off a coffee cup and a basket of berries or a bunch of radishes, nip a nip and back to work until he was burnt and tired.

I did ballet Tue and thur with karate monday and wednesday. I'd overdo on tuesday, show up for the women's karate class, go nice and easy, cool down, see the men come in, then I was warming up and doing the coed but mostly male.fast class. I loved those men like you love a dog. Sheer joy in play. Our feelings for dogs are so uncomplicated.

I overtrained until Lord Hanuman came to me in a dream. I didn't know who he was. Just a monkey man in my family room. And I knew I loved him.

Don't burn out your adrenals, please. Read a bit. Vitamin c. Protein. Run hard but seriously get serious about deep relaxation. Balance doesn't mean slow down. It means alnernate go fast with enough deep relaxation.

Are you using caffeine as a bronchodilator? I used to. Doc never heard of that. Look it up and you tell me. You mention it a lot. Like you are guiltily dependent. It's beck to quit but just not abusing it is a big help.

We can still go hard and fast all we want. We just need to remember to relax slow and deep jj the right proportion. I hate the muddled fatigue lazy state I get when I'm not working and not really relaxed. I'm close now.

No, I have the real things for my lungs, a corticosteroid, a rescue inhaler, and an allergy drug.

Did you know caffeine is a bronchodilator? Just thinking maybe you are self medicating in ways you don't know. People do.

The washer dryer guys ruined my day by lying to me. I didn't mind at the time. They wanted to reduce my price. They were pretty good. They moved the machines out. I am happy. I got a little cash.

But what they did by lying when I was already hypervigilant about two strange men in my home big enough to move a washing machine was get my arousal up.

This is the crap we deal with.

I automatically bring my arousal down.

So I'm moping. Because I brought my arousal down. Because I'm afraid to go shooting up and spend the night in ER with my buddies the guards. If I go I'm going to bring pizza. This sucks so bad.

OMG tuba. Someone is playing Mexican music which is good work music, but all I hear is the tuba line. And scritchy radio from across the way.

I've got one foot on the brake and one on the gas and I am standing. Can't get down without flying out of control.

You know what? The ex can deal with my crap. I will pick out what I want and leave the house clean and he can deal with my abandoned belongings. If its clean and neat he can manage it. I'm not going to sell my bed out from under me or have strangers trolling through to look at my plant stands.

Im heading toward another night in ER and I can't stand it! **** this ****. I'm taking GABA and doing yoga and staying out of ER and ex can pick through my books and deal with the mess.

Ex left me alone on my birthday while he drove up the coast of California alone. He can consider this payback. I remember that I cleaned that weekend. So payback it is.

I'm angry because I need the energy. **** this.

Now im happy. The ex is a prick. He's left me to clean up again and again. He can come home from his baseball tournament and walk in the door and see my place just as if I were coming home. And he can figure out what to do.

Because im tired.
Im overwhelmed.
I dont know what to do.
Its confusing.
I want to read tonight.

It feels really good.

I wont go to ER tonight.

If you can figure out a way to keep all your things~you should. In my opinion, "evacuating" is just something else to beat yourself up over when you start finding your peace.

I am keeping what I use and love.

Im taking my pocket knife and my oster blender. Maybe a teapot. Two paintings and a sewing machine and three copies of Laurels Kitchen. Back to basics.