The Bone Cracker

Admittedly, I have an issue with anxiety. Lets think back to that Ladies Luncheon a couple of weeks ago that had me in fits and more recently, the flushing and Tourrette's like episode caused by peddling raffle tickets. It went something like this..."I'M SELLING RAFFLE TICKETS! TICKETS! FIVE DOLLARS! FIVE! YOU DONT NEED TO EAT LUNCH! LUNCH! BUY A TICKET! TICKET!" and although I sold 2 and a half packs...or $125 worth...it was just that sort of thing that makes every muscle in my body contract violently. This has always been a problem for me...my nerves, that is. College was incredibly difficult because campuses are always so HUGE! why do they gotta be so HUGE!? and being HUGE means there are ALOT of people who know where theyre going and look cool going where ever they're going and me? well I never knew where I was going and I am terrible with directions anyway, so no matter how many times I had walked there. I always made a wrong turn or walked up one more flight of steps than needed. I have had nightmares about this even recently. That I was late for class...missed class...couldn't find class....forgot I had class...AND I'M NOT EVEN IN SCHOOL FOR CRAP'S SAKE! Imagine how tense I must get while dreaming about this ridiculous crap. If I am out in public places I don't mind too much as long as I can blend with the crowd. But I remember being in high school and being terrified to pay for anything at the register. It was like pulling my own teeth. If I was in a food court and neither parent was willing to go up and buy their fully-capable, 16 year old daughter a slice of pizza...well, I would rather starve than stand, sullenly, in line with a handful of shifty-eyed strangers and cry out my order to the girl behind the counter in front of everybody. HELLS NO! I'll suffer starvation, thank you. Even salespeople terrified me. I hated to shop because those women always wanted to confront me! They wanted to know what I was looking for! They wanted too much! I am much better in that regard, now. I am much better all around, but still not the greatest. I remember clinging to my mom's leg in terror when they would try to drop me off for Sunday School. I think I was the only 3 year old in church who kept her mouth shut for fear that they might send me off with those OTHER kids and that LADY who would ask me QUESTIONS that I couldn't answer because I was mute with terror. I can handle church now...except the part where we all shake hands and say..."Peace Be With You."....that part still throws me for a loop. Especially when someone (Roy) steals my peace and I'm standing there with my hand poking out of my side, limp and useless while he shakes hands with the person who was SUPPOSED to be shaking my hand but isnt because they were intercepted. Okay, I'm not as bad as I used to be. I do obssess over stupid things like...last night just prior to taking that muscle relaxer...I was stressing about the muscle relaxer. take it? need it? dont take it? freak out? too strong? death while sleeping? house burning down around me and I melt and die without even knowing? Consequently, I was struggling all night with a muscle relaxer which SHOULD have totally knocked me on my ass. And it DID for the most part, aside from my eyes popping open and looking at the clock at least 6 times to see if I was still alive an hour later. yes. now? yes. now? am I alive now? yes. how much time left? oh. now? YES! So I visit my co-workers husband...a nice man whom I will refer to here as, The Bone Cracker, and I am supposed to be getting pampered with electric shock therapy (does that sound right?) and massage therapy and ultrasound therapy and meanwhile I'm laying there thinking...too much shock? too little? more? should I tell her? less? no it's fine. are you sure? a little bit more? too much trouble. and I am there freaking stressing about my THERAPY! What the hell is THAT?! and as she massages me, I am sitting up, shirt half-way off and I'm thinking....my boob. they can see my boob. I hear the Bone Cracker. what if he comes over to check on me and sees my boob? I can't cover MY BOOB! SOMEBODY COVER MY BOOB! and finally I'm finished and I cover my own boob and go in to see the Bone Cracker in person and he instructs me into these various poses....maybe just for his own amusement, but no...there he is bouncing off of my hip and shoulder and my neck is cracking and my back is cracking and everything is cracking and I'm thinking....he's going to snap my neck! shut up! he's a professional! he went to school for this. calm your ass down. my back! in half! my spine! I'm breaking! calm. calm. be cool. be cool. relax everything. and he's finally done and truth be told...I DO feel tons better and today my smile is more like a smile instead of a polite grimace forced upon me by the rules of conduct and well...shit...I can breathe! Thats really the most important part. So now I am armed with Paxcil which should alleviate my inner ramblings and I will be treated for 3 weeks by the Bone Cracker and his staff of Rubbers and Shockers and maybe someday I'll be normal again. Not a chance of that, huh? Well then at least I won't be a twisted chiropractic nightmare anymore.