RUD = Rapid Unscheduled Disassembly.

That is how I saw the SpaceX account on Twitter describe the blowing up of the SpaceX rocket.

I found it hilarious.

Pretty much, the first thing I thought was “Did Gwyneth Paltrow have anything to do with this? Because Rapid Unscheduled Disassembly sounds like the phrase came from the same place as “Conscious Uncoupling”. I mean, the rest of us just get divorced. Or we split up. Or we quit them. But Gwyneth and Chris had a “Conscious Uncoupling” which is great. It is. It just doesn’t have much to do with the rest of us. Kind of like SpaceX and their explosions and the emerald mine dude who is in charge of that shit has nothing to do with the rest of us. They live a different life than literally everyone I know. Even the rich ones.

So, it turns out RUD is a tongue in cheek sort of thing.

I was informed that RUD has been around forever when scientists talk about exploding rockets.

Or maybe more than just rockets, I’m sure other things other than rockets explode when rocket science is applied. Not gonna lie, most rocket science humor is going to go right over my head.

RUD is kind of like the PEBKAC issues that people in IT experience. If a user is the cause of the issue then the “Problem exists between keyboard and chair”. Or an I D ten T issue. ID10t.

I never use the “idiot” thing. But I have no issue with PEBKAC because almost all IT issues are PEBKAC issues. Which is super annoying. IT would be better if there were no users.

I absolutely understand the basic flaw in that logic.

So, I will use the word “cunt” just to watch people squirm. I use the word fuck for comfort. It’s my security blanket. I would quit a job if I was told I was not allowed to say the word “fuck”.  Of course, I understand that cursing around customers is a bad idea. I’m talking about in my cubicle. In my sad little realm. In my room at work. There?  I am going to say fuck. A lot. But idiot is different. My older son, who is nearly 36, was super prissy about cursing when he was a kid, which was unfortunate for him as I am me. He gave me alternatives. Mostly he hated the word “idiot” so, when he was around 5 years old, he told me I could only say idiaudyit. Fuck. I have idea how to spell this. Here it is phonetically: Id dee aud dee it. I guess since he hated the word so much, that it since carried weight for me. So…I might call you a cunt, but I’d probably not call you an idiot. I reserve that word for orange fake presidents and every other driver on the road. 

But I digress. Cause that is what I do.

I became instantly enamored with RUD because a “rapid unscheduled disassembly” accurately describes a panic attack.

It’s sort of perfect.

I mean, not a panic attack. They suck. I wish they weren’t a thing. I’m just saying, a panic attack is rapid and always unscheduled.

The disassembly part…whew…that sucks. All your defenses? Gone. Ability to focus? Don’t be stupid. Throat closed up to a pinhole? Yes…yes, that happens.

Of course, a panic attack wouldn’t be scheduled.

What kind of ding dong would schedule that shit? There are so many other things available. Like a massage. Or job interview. Or a root canal.

It’s the disassembly. I was going to say that was the worst part of my panic attacks, but it really isn’t. The worst part is that you feel like you are actively dying, all the physical pain included. So, that really is the worst part. But the second worst part, for me is my defenses disassembling.

I feel like I have some strong goddamn defenses. Plus, I am super stubborn. More on that later. The point being, I trusted those defenses. They might not make me feel warm and fuzzy, but they are adequate for pushing shit down enough to be able to function. Until I started having panic attacks. They fucking folded like a cheap lawn chair. I mean, they just dissolved immediately. No defense and no reasoning. They disassembled and I was left with nothing.

Except that isn’t true. I still called my doctor. I still went to work. I mean, I wasn’t doing a good job or anything, but I was there. I still had something, but that something was raw and fragile and I wept constantly. I needed those defenses. One cannot white knuckle anxiety without a trusted defense.

I’m finished with my ketamine therapy.

Here’s the coolest thing right now. I’m cool if my defenses are broken now. I mostly don’t need them. And I have needed them every single day for decades. For as long as I can remember. I just don’t need them as much anymore.

Am I fixed?

HAHAHAHAFUCKINGHAHAHAHA

Oh, for all that is holy, no. No, I am not fixed. I don’t even know what fixed would look like. Does anyone?

But I am better. My mortality anxiety isn’t gone, not by a damn sight, but it is better.

I even have a troubling medical thing going on. I mean, it’s not the worst thing ever, but it’s also shitty. After having steady blood pressure forever, I’ve suddenly gone up to hypertension levels. I haven’t seen a doctor yet. We were trying other methods to bring it down and it’s not been satisfactory, so I am calling my doctor on Monday.

More than anything, I do not want to have to start blood pressure medication. But, it really does need to be addressed.

The point is…2 months ago? I would have been in a goddamn fetal position over this. Now? I am concerned because it’s fucking concerning, but I’m pretty calm with it. It can be addressed. Also, even with the positive health changes I’ve made, I can make many more positive changes that would probably help the situation.

It isn’t my defenses making this easier for me to deal with. I’m not masking it. I just feel okay with it. I feel okay with so many more things. I’m not saying ketamine therapy is for everyone, I’m just saying that I wish everyone would get it.

I completed my therapy, but I have to go one more time. My last one can’t be my last one.

I had an event. I mean, nothing bad happened, but it was still unpleasant.

Here’s how the sessions go. You get vitals taken, you get a shot and then 20 minutes later, you get a second shot.

This went along smoothly on my last session, until I felt this foam in my throat. I could feel foam coming up through my throat and onto my face. I was way down deep in my ketamine universe, and I also knew that I needed medical attention. So I found a way to exit my trip, not long after the second injection, and informed the doctor and the nurse that I had a death rattle.

So, I actually did not have one. There was no foam. Nothing bad was happening. Other than I took myself completely out. My doctor told me that there is no way I should have been able to pull myself out of the experience and that she was going to give me a third injection.

I was fine then. No more death rattles.

When I naturally came out of the last trip, Randy was in the recliner next to me, holding my hand. Everything was fine.

My stubbornness knows no bounds.

It’s nearly been two weeks since my treatments ended and I know I am good. At least, for now.

But I am going to schedule one last one. Maybe next month. I kind of need the final session to not be quite so disturbing.

I mean, there is always the possibility that it will happen again, but I’m playing the odds here. 5 were fine, 1 was mostly awesome with a tad of horror. I’m willing to take the chance.

Here’s to no longer fearing Rapid Unscheduled Disassembly. At least for now. For a long time, I hope.