Saturday, August 08, 2015

The Lords Prayer minus the Lord

I've got a lot to be pissed about - but, I'm still having chest pains. Instead of chest pains, I choose to sit into my center and breathe and pray that the pain is just my anxiety, and hope that this is not the moment I'm dying of a heart attack, and pray some more because damn, I'm tired of being crazy. But sometimes life is crazy, not me.

Its not me - it really is them.
I shall repeat this to myself every night before I go to sleep.
Like the Lord's Prayer
minus -
The Lord.

As my health over the past few months grew worse, I made a decision to take medical leave. Its important to note that being a restaurant manager is not the easiest job in the world. Especially, for the invincible woman with pneumonia and chest pain. I've been to see cardiologists and pulmonary specialists, and ran the treadmill until I literally had no air. I want to strangle every doctor who has never failed to bring up my anxiety; you know that imaginary rope I dangle from tightly wrapped around my neck day after day knowing my feet are only two inches off the floor and I'm going to die anyway -- THAT ROPE? Every time my anxiety symptoms were mentioned my heart pain was immediately dismissed - is just like a condescending pat on the head. I still took a medical leave.

I planned a night where my colleagues and I could gather; in a truck stop bar off of I-84. There, I planned a surprise comedy show. As the night grew on and I noticed my other booked comic hadn't shown; I knew that the time was now or never. I was going to get on the "dance floor" on the end of a ten foot microphone cord and entertain. (with my clothes on)  I was forced into it - I've almost thought of nothing else since I left performing almost 3 years ago. But you never really leave, its always there, almost stronger than the rope of anxiety. I was going to get on the "dance floor" - and I would decided right then an there.

In the midst of debilitating lows, one could not know how my heart smashed at every level while shuffling across a slippery dance floor telling jokes for 30 solid minutes. Just the memory makes my heart hurt. I know its hard to get my blood pressure up since I have the blood pressure of a fairly healthy zombie but, I've broken out into a sweat.



I actually did perform and I performed well, I performed like it was my best night and I never left. I won't say all 30 was rocking because there was a moment in the middle when I stopped and realized what I was doing and I almost threw up in the middle of my blow job joke. Like that hasn't happened to anyone before.  I performed like a robot, like a mad woman, probably better and way more open than in the past. I'm looking forward to the next and the next and the next. Just like blow jobs, my gag reflex will strengthen over time and I'll be up on the dance floor without my old dance partner, PTSD/Generalized Anxiety Disorder/Panic Disorder/Agoraphobia very soon. You know I'm not happy unless its a full blown circus.

It turns out its just going to take more time to heal from this broken heart. The pain is real but the muscles are weak. The will is there, the hard work will come but, I've been down a long time and this is just going to take a bit longer.

Chest Pain 1
Chantel WINNING BIG TIME






Chantel for President

So you still think you want Trump for President. Sit down and tell me about your Step father.


Saturday, July 04, 2015

July 4th, 2015

I've been falling down a lot lately. A few nights ago, I wandered outside in the dark, tripped over an upside down lawn chair and saw my life flash before my eyes. AGAIN, This time I was just tipsy, the lawn chair was darker than night and after I bashed my shins and, avoided impailling myself on the leg of a lawn chair like a Game of Thrones character - I finally hit the ground and realized - Ozzy Osbourne is having an easier time dying than me.

I imagined my obituary and the strange looks at my viking funeral.
"Chantel went exactly the way she liked to live; tipsy - in the dark - in the backyard - surrounded by the things she loved which fell out of her purse on her way down. Except for the Lemon Shandy, she would never spill her drink." I really thought it would be more glamorous than that.

I got up, finished my Shandy, scooped up my belongings, my dog and, went to bed. I survived yet again and the only thing to show for it; is my inner dialogue and a few bruises. And why the fuck did I think of Ozzy Osbourne just before my death?
So many questions.

Other recent adventures in old and overconfident:
I've fallen at work
I smashed my hand on a glass in front of my new boss.
Then, I had a great day so; I climbed rocks, I fell down, I had an asthma attack. All I had to show for it was an unspilled Shandy and a few more bruises.
I love swimming in the river - stacking rocks because its illegal - and Shandy's.

Life is simple.
I'm celebrating Independence Day,
I'm celebrating even though the fire-crackers scare the bezeesus out of me.

I'm reminded of a time when I was 15 and I was at my new cool summer job sitting in an empty office answering telephones and typing 3-part carbon forms day after day after hour after minute. I really took a liking to office work after that job, said no-one ever. I wrote a story about how I was kidnapped by the KGB and flown to Russia so they could steal my only Led Zepplin album. Yes, a telephone, a typewriter, a plane, a Led Zepplin album and 8 hours to kill at work. I won the KGON contest and I felt pretty good about myself. That's a time I not only survived; I fucking beat the Russians too.

I was reprimanded sternly and then I wondered what ever happened to my album and, then I wondered about my blog, my career and, thought, THIS IS THE LIFE AND TIMES....maybe I should scrap it and start over, like I always thought of doing. But then I realized THIS hot mess is just another extension of who I am to become. And slowly but surely - I'm going to try again - I'm probably going to fail again - but maybe I won't - maybe I'll survive that too. But I've got to come out of hiding a little and I've got to get on the grid - I guess I'll pay my domain renewal.

I've wanted to write stuff. But all I have to show for it; is a few really long showers where I giggle at all the awesome jokes I've written in my head.  Over time, that turned to possibly, maybe, wanting to perform again - on my own terms - jotting ideas on paper turned to buying podcasting equipment, turned to outlining long form story-telling productions turned to possible, someday, very soon, I will not only not only beat that outside force trying to steal my only access to my own personal Stairway to Heaven. I'll be honest, we can thank the Lexapro, a Psychologist for the time I lived and a Psychologist for the time I died and a doctor who swears a lot when he looks at my lungs and heart. I thank myself a lot too - I'm been working really hard on getting well.

Then I thought about all the other falling down I've done and how I survived quite well. And then I realized I beat another Russian - so to speak. I not only won, I not only survived, I'm a happy Mother Fucker. I'm still missing my albums but that too was just another piece of plastic, I don't really miss it - really.

And then I thought wow, Its July 4th.
I quit smoking yesterday.


I've also been thinking of running for President
Campaign Slogan
"I've still got skills"

Russians 0
Chantel 2

No pills,
no cigarettes and,
no Shandy's were harmed during this post.

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

So this is a new post with pictures

I have made significant changes in my life since my last post here. Unfortunately, any disruption to my life causes a great deal of insecurity and imagined instability. I'm working - for money - in a way that's not illegal. GO ME. I've never really worked illegally but, after caring for my Dad for two years, I sort of feel out of place in a "real" work environment. I guess we call this - the jumping off point of "starting over". Its serious -- I'm employed.

Here are some photos to get you going.
Its true, I do love wedding dresses. I have no desire to find myself in one. 

This is 15 years of friendship - and the photo on my hat proves that it. 

My little Peanut Butter Cup for Halloween. 

I get to go to work here everyday. The possibilities are as endless as these vines.

My Sister - 30 years later. 


The Oregon City Library

I had a dream I was abducted by aliens

I had a dream I was abducted by aliens. I apologized for not wearing cuter shoes.