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Staving off the anxiety, bit by bit

Posted Apr 06 2010 12:00am

My car is emitting a strange noise when I start it up… and later when I turn the steering wheel. I’m a bit short on cash, right now, so the thought of paying my mechanic yet more money makes me extremely nervous.

Solution for 1:45 a.m. Google it. Power steering whine is not uncommon. And the noise seems to happens only when I’m turning the wheel, or when I start up cold. Who can say? Only the mechanic knows. But at least I know there are plenty of other people in the world who have strange whining noises coming from their cars, and they’re not panicking.

I also need new tires. And an oil change. Will the bleeding ever stop? So long as I own a car, probably not. And I think back fondly on the days when I did not own a car. Lived in the city. Walked and took public transit. The good life.

I think I’m coming down with a cold. Nose running. Cannot open the little pack of tissues. Everything feels like a conspiracy, the haves making life difficult for the have-nots. Bastards.

In South Africa, an avowed white supremacist was hacked and bludgeoned to death by two workers. The World Cup people must be having a sh*t fit. Apparently, people who “know” South Africa are waiting for the other side of the bigotry camp to make matters worse. Stoke the fires. At least I don’t live there

My body aches with all this springtime activity. Lots to do. New movements after a long winter. Body knows it, too. Ouch. Stretch. That’s better… a little.

Oh, God, I am so tired. I need tea. Chamomile or Sleepy Time. Something that will take the edge off. I haven’t been sleeping. I’ve been worried. If I had good sense, I’d remember that in another year, I will not remember this time, nor many of these worries, and I will have gotten on with my life. What kind of life will I have? Pondering that distracts me from my desperation. For a while.

Google Chrome is my new favorite browser, but it can’t handle logins to save its life, apparently. I think it gets confused with all the passwords it saves. It won’t let me into my email. So I use Opera. It’s faster than Firefox and I like the idea of using a browser that nobody knows about, but that pretty much works.

I hate technology. There, I’ve said it. I love what it can do, but I hate it for what it is: complication raised to an art form. Why can’t I just go back to farming like my ancestors? Dude — ’cause farming blows. Ask any farmer. Ask your cousins — ask your uncles, who went out and got desk jobs instead of doing 4:00 a.m. milking for the rest of their born days. I am one generation removed from being raised on a farm, and I grew up listening to my dad tell all us kids how lucky we were that we didn’t have to empty out the outhouse once a month. My dad grew up using an outhouse. Not indoor amenities. Most people forget how far we have all come in just the last 50 years.

If I were my grandfather, I’d be getting ready to go milk my cows, right about now.

But I still hate technology.

My hard drive is grumbling and grinding. That can’t be good.

BUT new gadgets are hitting the stores that will make everyone go out and buy them and dump their “old” laptops. I’ll buy a newish used one for a song. And its former owner will cling to their iPad, tenaciously ignoring its bugs and quirks because it’s… well… new.

I breathe… I breathe… I draw a breath in with a count of 1…2…3….4…5…6… exhale 1…2…3….4…5…6… and I reach for another tissue to blow my nose.

I need tea. Don’t just sit there. Make some tea. It’s 4:04 a.m. and there’s no sense in staying up any longer than I have to. I have an appointment with my neuropsych this afternoon. I need to be fresh for that. Awake. I don’t think that’s happening.

It’s 4:04 a.m.  Do I know where my money is? Do I know how my spouse is spending the money I earn? Do I need to buy a new car? The van is on its last legs – the van is what my spouse drives. They need wheels. Where will I get the money? I have two healthy kidneys, from what I can tell. I could live with one. I hear you can get $10,000 for a healthy kidney.

I’m only half joking.

Or, I could create something useful and worthwhile that brings value to others, and that they’ll pay for. And sell it. That might help. But I am an unknown. Not a household name whose personal brand sells just by association. I’m no Billy Mays, rest his soul.  I’ll have to work…

Speaking of work, I have to be there in another 5 hours.

Time for tea.

The anxiety will wait. It always does.

Filed under: Personal Experiences with TBI Tagged: angst , anxiety , car , farming , fear , money
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