Me with a microphone

Posted on by under Humor

I did it.

I am now a professional comic.

I performed in a show and earned enough money for a tank of gas and a cup of coffee.

It is more money than I ever planned on making for trying to make people laugh with my mouth. Or the sounds that come out of my mouth.

That sounded dirtier than I intended.

I have a hard time watching the video. I’m good with my performance, but it is weird to watch the awkward way I move. Why do I keep touching my hair? Could I just calm down a little? I look like I have to pee. Also, do I make that face a lot? Because damn.

But then I tell myself, this is who you are. Just because you can actually see what other people see doesn’t really change anything, does it?

Anyway, here it is. My first paid stand-up gig.

Changing the subject a little. And not for the last time in this post.

Getting my head around the election on the heels of my father’s death and my mother’s broken back wasn’t easy. It still isn’t. My coping skills had taken a hit and I did what anyone would in that situation. I adopted another cat.

This is Rudolph Valentino.

Cat playing on cat tree

Since we have a Gertie and Bea, I wanted to stick with the old timey names. It doesn’t get much more old timey than Rudolph Valentino, aka Rudie can’t fail, aka Rudie, aka Dee Dee, aka Bubby. Because all cats are Bubbies.

He has the sweetest personality. He and Bea scrap a little, but mostly they play. Gertie hated him with the passion of a thousand burning suns, but he defers to her and she seems to tolerate him now. He is six months old and has been with us for 3 weeks. It kind of feels like he’s always been here.

The other thing that happened was over the holidays, I ended up in the ER. I haven’t been feeling good for such a long time. Mostly I felt exhausted, anxious and panicky. Which is understandable. But it turns out that my pulse was very low, which can make one feel exhausted, anxious, and panicky with brain fog.

Can I just say what bullshit it is to have a medical issue that mimics the other ways in which I already feel shitty? Makes it kind of hard to figure out. 

On Christmas Eve, I felt so awful that I could barely get out of bed. I was fairly convinced it was something more than just my normal anxiety and panic. I took my blood pressure which wasn’t bad but noticed my pulse was 50. My normal resting heart rate is the high 80s low 90s. My sister, who works in a hospital, told me to go to the ER and to not take any chances.

I was fine. Everything checked out. I went to my doctor and he took me off one of my medicines and ordered a monitor for me to wear for two weeks.

So, it was the medicine. I had a similar issue a year ago with a beta blocker. This was the drug that replaced it. I had the same reaction, I just didn’t know it. I thought it was my normal bullshit and was just powering through. All the while, my mortality anxiety was screaming in my ears. It has been exhausting and terrifying. I went to the ER because my pulse was low, but I think it has been low for a long time.

Within days of stopping the medicine, I started feeling better. Better than I’ve felt in nearly 2 years. I got the results back from the monitor and I’m fine.

I can’t begin to express how grateful I am. I don’t spend every day feeling like I’m wading through molasses. I can focus. I’m not cycling panic attacks.

Okay, so back to the stand up.

The show went so well that the venue invited us back. We think it will end up being a quarterly thing. Our next show is March 22. I’m working on new material. Because working on comedy and playing with the kitties is what I’m focusing on. Because I can focus now. Before, I was clinging to comedy and kitties.

Focusing is so much better than clinging.

 

In Defense of Me

Posted on by under Personal Growth

I don’t mean I need to be defended because I’ve done wrong or been wronged.

I’m talking about me defending me.

I ran across an article I wrote that was published on Midlife Boulevard nearly 10 years ago. I was inspired when I read it.

The article talks about going beyond self-acceptance and moving into self defense.

I remember very clearly what I was going through at the time. I have taken thyroid medicine for going on 40 years now because I had thyroid cancer when I was 23 and had the gland removed. After being on the same dose for many many years and missing getting my blood tested to check my levels, I ended being poisoned by my medicine. My levels had reached toxic levels. It came to a head when I passed out one evening and started vomiting.

At first my doctor was concerned I had a transient stroke, but bloodwork showed the issue was with my medicine. One of the side effects, that had been going on for months, was extreme anxiety. My doctor was surprised that I hadn’t lost a lot of weight. I didn’t gain either, but I was buying king sized Butterfingers on the regular because they calmed buzzing in my brain. For a few minutes. And then made me feel worse. Haha. Anyway, it was a dark time. I am proud that I wrote the article when I was feeling so bad.

Even so, I read what I wrote and at first I was sad.

Why? Why did you write this and then let it go? Why didn’t you follow your own advice? That was almost 10 years ago. Look how much time you wasted not defending yourself. 

So I read it again.

We can’t just settle for self-acceptance. We must defend ourselves.

We have to jump in with both feet and release our inner momma bear that comes out when something or someone threatens a person we love. We have to release that inner momma bear for our own damn selves. Especially, during those times when we are our own biggest threat.

How can we become who we are supposed to be if we aren’t dedicated to defending ourselves?

So I am trying to do that.

No one is better at defending loved ones than I am. The concept of defending myself wasn’t one I had even considered and it is so simple, really.

We must accept ourselves. Self acceptance is important. We won’t defend something we don’t accept.

When we defend ourselves, then we are safe. We carry our protector with us.

I will always take care of me. I will defend myself.

I do take care of myself. But I have fallen short of defending myself.

What happened over the past ten years? It fucking happened. It is gone. All we have is now and right now, I am defending myself over beating myself up. Because I am worth it. I matter.

So do you.

 

We are here

Posted on by under Life

I couldn’t move for the longest time this morning. Like, my arms and legs refused to cooperate.

I stared at the wall with the green curtain and watched the minutes tick by on my phone. I didn’t bother opening the phone again. I saw the news.

It wasn’t like 2016. I didn’t stay up all night sobbing. I didn’t come to work with a swollen face.

But the despair? Of course, I can’t say for sure, but I am pretty fucking sure the despair is far worse this time.

Far worse.

Eventually, my brain won the argument with my arms and legs and we all got out of bed.

The thought of going to work was absurd. The house is on fire. What the fuck does work even mean? And about that. Seems like my plans for retirement are gone. I don’t even want to hope that I will be able to collect social security in a few years. I’ll be working until I fucking die.

Because worrying about my personal situation allowed me to move my arms and legs again.

The anguish for all those in peril was too much to process. The fear for my sisters and brothers in marginalized groups. The terror I feel for any human with a working uterus. The profound sadness at the understanding that tens of millions of people in this country don’t consider us completely human.

How can I process this? How can there be any joy? Fucking ever?

But here’s the thing. What will happen over the next few months and years is out of our control. Our control was our vote and that moment is over. But we are here. We are still here.

We are millions. We are here.

I will work at removing as much negativity in my life as I can. I will strive to bring positivity into the universe. Because I can. Does that mean a fucking thing? I don’t know. I don’t know if it helps, but I am goddamn sure it won’t hurt.

I deactivated my Twitter account this morning. It was fun for a few years, but that stopped in 2015. I have spent nearly a decade on that app reading every single awful thing that happened in our country. I knew about small political races in states I have never even been to. I hate to brag, but I made doom scrolling my bitch. I was tenacious. Like Robert Patrick in Terminator II, but instead of being a killing machine, I doom scrolled.

I can’t be there any more. How can I even begin to be more positive if I am bathing myself in sewage every single day?

I am not suggesting we stick our heads in the sand. We will never have that luxury. And if you are sticking your head in the sand? Cut that shit out. This is life and death. We always have to be informed. We always have to stay vigilant.

But we don’t have to eat it like junk food.

I have a suggestion for for. Maybe it is more a request.

Make art.

Make a lot of art.

Sing songs and dance. Unless your knees hurt a lot like mine, then maybe not a lot of dancing.

Write stories and jokes and plays and poems. Write a funny message on your bathroom mirror.

Act or tell jokes. Draw pictures. Glue sparkly things to something dull.

Make good food. Try new things. Decorate a cake. Paint a lamp. Deconstruct something unusable and turn it into something else.

Find the art of others. Appreciate their art. Support them and celebrate them.

There is infinite room for all art.

This belongs to us. We can make all the art we want. And if I have to end up writing words in the fucking dirt with a stick, then that is what I will do.

We need art. We need it so bad.

Tell people that you love that you love them.

I love you.