anxiety disorder


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A comment on a previous post got me thinking about what I’m actually doing here. The spat of freak weather we’ve been having here has left this particularly crazy scribbler with way too much time to think. Firstly – the weather. There was an epic windstorm and a couple of fairly epic thunder and lightning events. And some hail. Truthfully, after living where I’ve lived in Zimbabwe for the past eighteen years they were a bit ho-hum to me. I’m used to having rip-roaring cyclones without the benefit of a basement. Anyway. Things blew up electricity-wise. Now I really get those guys in the first world who have pucker “bug out bags” and plans for evacuation in the event of the zombie apocalypse. This little town shut down tighter than a snail with OCD. The banks were closed. The fuel pumps were closed. The supermarkets were closed. Hell – everything was closed. And so my obsession with having loads of food on hand and a bit of cash at all times was WELL justified. Take THAT you guys who said I was odd.

Also – I take my hat off to the people of Zimbabwe for seriously rising to the occasion. Apart from having a mental president who rants at all aspects of Westernism, yet is not averse to the odd horse drawn carriage, twenty one gun salute, or a really fine chilled glass of Pinotage, they know how to survive in an apocalypse. There when the power went off, we put the generator on. We always had at least a month’s worth of food on hand. The banks, supermarkets, and petrol stations all had their own personal generators, so shopping was not so hard – apart from the time TM got stuck on Phil Collins’ rendition of True Colours, played it over and over, and we were all sobbing our eyes out with the till operators when we left.

But anyway. Back to the subject at hand. A comment on my Yacking It Up post really made me take ten steps back and take notice. I mentioned depression in the post, but I really thought I skirted the subject well enough not to draw criticism from those who suffer this affliction. Seems I was wrong.

I started this blog as a newbie writer. And I mean newbie. I’m not one of those scribblers who have been penning tales from the age of six. I haven’t written anything until about three years ago apart from shopping lists. Originally after I got the whole inspiration thing for African Me I thought I’d go the traditional route and find myself an agent and obviously turn out to be the next best thing since cream cheese. But unfortunately my OCD kicked in.

It was never my intention to share these interesting character malformations that I have here on my blog. This was supposed to be all about my writing. And this in all probability will be the ONLY post I ever share about my weirdness. But here goes anyway.

I have Anxiety Disorder. I have Panic Attacks. I do believe that I am borderline Agoraphobic and possibly Bipolar. However. Mostly I have these things under control. Not so much at the moment because sometimes life chucks so much crap at you you would be ABNORMAL not to be a freak show.

Still – these are not things about my life that I care to share. Even though I’m fairly “normal” now, I remember all the terror, bloody excessive amounts of cortisol that did crazy things to my body and mind. These things can NOT be understood by those who have not lived through them, so unless you’ve lived them don’t write articles about them – and certainly don’t encourage anyone else to either. And each of us has a unique set of symptoms. Medication might work for one and not another – yoga, exercise, diet, and prayers works for me. It just pisses me off a little to have anyone casually toss such a random comment into my post when I never professed to be an expert on the subject of Depression – although I can assure you I’m a bloody card carrying member of that club.

Anyway. This will be my last post of this nature. And I’ve thought long and hard about actually posting it. My blog is about BOOKS and THINGS THAT I LOVE AND FIND COOL. If you have anything really stupid to say – write it on a carrot, and stick it….


Feathers and Quivers

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One of my parrots has been quite sick for the last two weeks. Now I’ve figured out what’s wrong with him, I’m hoping he’ll get totally better quickly. He has two sores, one under each wing, and apart from dosing him with antibiotics, and loads of oregano (until tomorrow when I’ll finally get the right medication), he’s been needing round the clock looking after. At least he’s eating now, and judging from the amount of yelling he’s doing, I’m hoping to start getting some proper writing done again, and we can all breathe sighs of relief.

After my chat about anxiety disorders and panic attacks yesterday, it occurred to me that one of my previous posts touched on the subject of finding help. So instead of repeating myself, I’ll send anyone who is looking for new avenues of relief here. Before I read this book, and did what the man said I should do, I tried just about everything, including drinking water upside down. That one worked for a bit for the minutes I was concentrating on the water in my nostrils, but nothing else did. This book more than fixed me. Even if you think life’s just peachy, it’s still an amazing little book.

Right now, it’s parrot fixing time again, before more zooming down my emails. The last one I opened was a recommendation to buy a book on how to write. I won’t mention the actual title, but I will tell you that “write” was spelled “wrti” in the actual blurb on Amazon. Well done that man!

Till next time friends.