I have been working my fingers to the bone. They are red, bloody stumps as we speak. My keyboard is on fire. I set out on a quest and accomplished.....NOTHING.
I've been searching the web for some different ways to handle stress instead of popping a pill every couple of hours. Not that I care if you pop a pill all the time however, I don't want it to be me always popping the pill. So I diligently worked my way through 400pages on google looking for some sure fire ways to control my panic, anxiety and sleep deprivation.
Some of the ideas sounded legit. I decided to try practicing deep breathing. I hyperventilated. I tried drinking tea. I gave myself a urinary tract infection. I tried rubbing pressure points on my body. I got bruised. I tried to find outlets like exercise or hobbies. I'm just lazy. I tried praying. God asked me to leave him alone for awhile so he can take care of other issues like war, the devil and sickness. I tried focusing my energy on other activities. I buried myself in my bedroom cleaning and threw up because I was so crapping hot. And then I popped a couple of pills. I tried cooking and burned my arm. It is a festering blister now.
You see. It doesn't work. For me. Yet, I am really happy.
Yes. I only gave it a few moments to try these techniques and then gave up. I give up easily. Go ahead, call me a quitter because I will call you fat. Just saying.
So you see. I'm a happy pill popper. I'm not gonna lie. Stress is like a heavy cloud that dangles over your head. Especially if you are like me and never, ever stop stressing. There were days that I was so consumed that I couldn't even get into the shower. I would physically be exhausted. So I turned to a pretty little pink pill that makes stress a little more tolerable. It doesn't take away stress. But I don't get consumed in all my gloom all.day.long. I have moments. There are dark moments for me and my family. Like when I am pissed and I am flying off the handle and then turn on a dime and start sobbing. Actually, now that I think about it....their facial expressions are comical. They look like I just shot them with a stun gun or something. Even the dogs quietly move into a different room when I am on a rampage. Luckily, it only takes a brief second for me to apologize and smother my family with kisses when I fly off the handle. But I do fly off the handle. Ask my husband. He will be happy to tell you. He likes sympathy since he doesn't get any from his bitch of a wife. And he's a drama king too.
But I am a pill popper and I like it. If I was stranded on a desert island, all I would need is diet coke (fountain preferably), my pills and Qtips. I would be A-okay. And bug spray. I hate bugs. And a good looking cabana boy would be acceptable too. Actually, I would like to be stranded on a desert island with all the above things.
Especially a hot, sultry, sweaty, tan cabana boy who resembles Patrick Dempsey carrying a fountain diet coke in one hand and my pills in the other. Oh my.
Excuse me. I have a date with my shower.
P.S. I love being happy :-)