Fat Bottom Girl Said What

When my ass talks, people listen.

Archive for the category “Uncategorized”

Crazy Cocktails and Their Side Effects

A few days ago I cried uncle to the anxiety (with an undercoating of PTSD), which has plagued me for quite some time, and made an appointment to see my doctor.  I had recently talked to a few people about their struggles with anxiety, and the meds they take to help deal with it.  I don’t like medications, because I seem to be ultra-sensitive to some of them, plus most of them can exacerbate the exact thing we’re trying to get rid of, and that just makes no damn sense whatsoever.

My doctor knows I don’t like to take pills, and often has to convince me to try them, so when we sat down to talk on Monday, and I broke down in tears over my inability to deal with this fucking anxiety, he suggested Lexapro, an SSRI-anti-depressant, which is also supposed to have anti-anxiety properties.

I suggested Ativan, which he isn’t particularly fond of, but I had to admit to him that a friend had given me one to try during an anxiety attack, and it helped calm me down within 20-30 minutes.  And seriously, if you have anxiety, you know what blissful relief a reprieve from torturous cyclical thinking can be.

Needless to say, we compromised:  he would give me the Ativan for “as needed” situations, and I would try the Lexapro for a long term solution.

Now mind you, the last time I took an anti-depressant, it was something called Pristiq, which I had to stop taking because of the ridiculous cost of it, and I almost slit my wrists when I was trying to wean myself off of it. I literally locked myself in my bathroom, and called my mom to come over and talk me off the fucking ledge, because of that shit.  That’s when I said, “NO MORE!”.  Didn’t matter what came up, I would plow through depression without a pill, because I was never going to subject myself to worse depression from an anti-depressant.

Fast forward to 5 years later and two doses of Lexapro got me looking like the town meth whore with some damn teeth grinding and jaw clenching and my inability to keep my damn tongue still in my mouth.

What. The. Fuck.  *Google Lexapro and teeth grinding*

Sure enough, the meth mouth shuffle is one of the side effects of Lexapro.  So doc, I tried, but I’m not doing this shit.  I’m not going to keep walking around doing this, grinding my teeth down to stumps and giving myself migraines, in the hopes that the side effects will wear off.  If this is what happens after two doses, I don’t want to see what happens after a third, or a fourth.

At least I still have the Ativan to calm my brain, even if it doesn’t help stop looking like the town meth whore.

 

 

I Give Up

I’ve decided I can’t do it anymore.  As much as I hate taking any sort of prescription medication, I will go to my doctor next Monday morning, and prostrate myself at his feet and beg him to give me something to help my anxiety.  My psyche, and my body, feel ravaged by the effects of anxiety.  I worry I will never be able to have a successful relationship again, or I will irreparably damage the relationships I currently have, if I don’t do something.

Here’s hoping he hears my cry for help.

Don’t. . .

don't fall2.jpg

Halcyon Dreams

I want

a safe place to lay my head

your shoulder

your chest

the crook of your arm

I want

you to calm my mind with

your touch

your kiss

the sound of your heartbeat

 

 

Yesterday 2016. Today 1958?

Guess it’s time for me to don hose, heels, a dress, and pearls, and go on a manhunt for a guy who will marry me and keep me in the style I’m accustomed to.

I better practice my smile, and holding my tongue, because I’m sure my new husband will have no desire to hear “drivel” and “clap-trap” escape my lips.

He’ll say things to me like, “A woman’s place is in the bedroom and not in the boardroom”.

He will expect me to perfect a bundt cake, and have his martini and slippers waiting for him when he walks through the door in the evening from a hard day at the office.

At night, he’ll kiss me chastely on the cheek before we retire to our separate twin beds, me still in full makeup and wearing lipstick, where I will proceed to cry myself to sleep because I know he’s screwing his secretary, and because I’m so unfulfilled.

FUCK. THAT. SHIT.

 

 

 

 

The Creature Within

The rumble of the thunder reminds me

that I used to be fierce

I felt the fire in my belly

and I was strong and unafraid

How long has it been now

since I was that person

I can’t recall

She still resides within me

and rears her head

now and then

only to disappear again

when the anxiety returns

 

What A Good Year For The Roses

You open the door

and the bones fall to the floor

clattering and clicking against each other

the thigh bones

the shin bones

So many skeletons

you’re immersed up to your knee bones

Your eyes search me with a quizzical look

I respond in my best Aunt Agnes voice

“Oh my! What a mess!”

(I’ve made of my life)

I know any minute I shall hear the crush

of brittle bone

beneath the heels of your boots

as your long gait leads you

down the hallway 

and out the door of my heart

But you lift your foot

and begin to pulverize

years of bad decisions and pain and disappointment

and you take my hand

and I join in

doing a shuffle ball change

so I can hear the satisfying crunch 

beneath my tap shoes

Then you ask for a broom

and a dust pan

and sweep up the shards of my life

and lead me to the garden

where you sprinkle them around the base of the roses

Stimuli

And today it seems nothing will satisfy

but you

I pace

cross my legs and swing my foot

run my fingers through my hair

habitually dart my tongue back and forth over my bottom teeth

all of me

is seeking the sensation of you

my mind

cannot be silent

it searches for

the feel of your fingertips on my skin

the taste of you on my lips

the soothing tones of your voice

I want to

fall into you

and get lost for a few hours

bodies perspiring in tangled sheets

and the sound of your heartbeat in my ear

 

 

Soiled Soul

The dirt coats me

by now it is embedded into my pores

How long it’s been there

I know not

Days?

Perhaps years

Rivulets of a thousand heartbreaks

cut pathways through it

I journey miles

in search of a river or stream

to wash it away

But all I’m met with 

is a wasteland

littered with corpses

of those who were not strong enough

to travel my path

Autumn Equinox

cornstalks-and-crows-linda-storm

Photo Credit:  Linda Storm

 

 

The corn stalks have withered

and rustle in the wind

summoning the crows with their song

The buzzards circle overhead

sensing the death of my hope

Nothing kept them from their prey

until you stepped from the shadows

and scattered them

forbidding them to return

by lighting a lamp

in the window of my soul

 

 

 

Post Navigation

Trent Lewin

Fiction, and other made-up stories

Sparklebumps: The Mother Version

Still histrionic, still a bookwhore; just faking competence because of my kid.

GREAT AWAKENINGS

One Therapist's Thoughts-Before and After

ZOVISION

It's not the length of life, but the depth.

My musings

This is my mind, it’s not supposed to make sense.

The Phil Factor

Where Sarcasm Gets Drunk and Lets Its Hair Down

Fighting the Myth

Shining the light of truth on delusion

The Haunted Librarian

Researching, investigating, and writing about the paranormal.

bloggerelstl

You either get it... or you don't.

theonerealheir.wordpress.com/

Inky blackness, a yawning void ~

The Roar Sessions

A weekly series edited by Jena Schwartz

Beth Teliho

Read. Ingest the words. Like little blue pills, they will affect you.

kirilson photography

the stories behind the pictures, and vice versa

SAINTSWEST

Just my thoughts for all to behold

Book Snob

FOR DISCERNING READERS

Ann Oblivion Blog

🍃 Fully Living The Unfinished Things Of Life Through Writings. 🍃

Chai and Chameli

Spiced with stories, served from the heart

Daniel Aegan

Writer, Tarot Reader, Designer

Annabel Vita

a little bit of this and a little bit of that

Even at Your Darkest

Seeking Beauty Beyond the Scars

insert witticism

The home of Emma O'Brien

shatteredtalon's Blog

The musings of a scorpion who would have been an eagle

knowingkimberly

I blog now. I know, I can't believe it either.