Night terrors in Adults??????

When my son was not yet three, he had a night terror. I'd never seen such a frightening episode in my life (I was only around 22.) He screamed, over and over, "MAMA! MAMA!" and I kept trying to hold him, telling him I was Mama, but to no avail. Finally, it was over and he just went back to sleep. It never happened again. So today as I was farting around on the internet, I stumbled across "Night Terrors in Adults." WHOA! For about the last two months, I finally discover, I've been having night terrors. I have a therapist and psychiatrist and medical doctor, and not one of them told me what was happening to me. I mean, I'd do this like (at its worst) three times in a 24 hour period. I didn't know what in the hell was going on with me--it was so freaky. They work like this: you're happily sleeping away and suddenly, you wake up screaming names, yelling, "Who am I?!!!!!!" and you run desperately around the house, all the while having not the faintest idea of why you are doing this. It is what it says it is: NIGHT TERRORS. See, I'd have figured that out by myself except I thought it only happened to toddlers was rather rare, and certainly wouldn't go on and on, day and night after night. How to fix it? Well, there's the problem, eh? Because no one really knows anything about it. If there's anyone out there reading this who knows someone who has this, or has this herself, please; let me know. I feel very alone with this malady, which is, well---terrifying. And it's not just the night terrors, either. My grown son who's living with me for a short time hates the way I wake up in the morning normally. I always joked about it, saying, "Well, I'm the toaster girl, I just pop outta bed like a piece of toast from the toaster." Yesterday though, he used a word that made me stop and think. He said, "When you get up, you're frantic." Sounds like Linnie Lou has a few problems to take care of; rather, solutions to find. I just don't know why I'm so weird.

The Sacred Princess Hippie

This is the color of blood--mine. It will be shed on this electronic machine til there is no more and it (me) dies. Well, I've done it a thousand times before, so once more won't kill me (ha ha.) I foolishly thought that once, someone actually loved me. But I found I was a follow up (Booby prize, as one may think of it,) to the truest love--THE SACRED PRINCESS HIPPIE. Who can compete with that? Not I, thought the silent Oracle of Delphi. AAhhhhh, this is a bunch of shit, really, and I hope you're all laughing right along with me. I have not known received love in 20 years, and that really doesn't bother me. What does bother me, is the lack of affection--and the overabundance of lies. When I kicked my ex out of my room and tossed him upstairs, I began to take myself back. Something, however, was lacking. I did not know what it was until the day Attycatty snuggled her warm, furry self oh so close beside me as I was ready to sleep that night. She touched me, and I mean she stretched out an arm and laid her paw on my wrist as if to say, "I love you. You comfort me, just by being here." Little did she know that was the first affectionate touch I'd had in twenty years. Or maybe she did. I will never be The Sacred Princess Hippie--but there is one thought I would like to leave to all you men who like a good sport when fucking and your girl (or hole) is getting FUCKED: you may need to know that a sofa bed, a fridge with a cheap gallon of wine is not all she needed. I don't even hope to find love. I just give it.

Guess who screwed up school???!!!!

So I guess this Vet Tech program I dropped out of is really a program on "How to become a Veteranarian." Because I can understand needing to know the "scapula," but can't understand why I'd ever need to know "The medical term for the RIDGE on the SCAPULA." I can just hear the conversation in the room at the Vet's--"boy, that ____ (word for ridge on scapula) isn't looking too good. Maybe we ought to take a little sandpaper and smooth that baby down." You may have guessed--that kind of info is not the knowledge I'm exactly looking for. It's hard to be a mystic in Chemistry class, even when you and no one else knows what "patina" is. Look--I'm laughing at myself. A fairly old woman trying to do a young person's career. So I'm sticking with the psychology of my seven cats. This house is run like a psych unit--group therapy, individual counseling, medication time, medication time, medication time......" (Lysine.) Wilber wants to let everyone know that he NEVER watches "Hill Street Blues," and much prefers Dexter and the Sopranos (he likes the way everyone's always saying "fuckin' this and fuckin' that.") Wilber doesn't always retire early, and Mr. Ed should know this--god, he's told him over and over that boredom will drive one either to bed or off a cliff, and bed usually is the better bet (not alway, though.) Wow, Mr. Ed, it's 11:24 PM! Gotta get to On Demand for a peek at next season's Dexter. And then to bed.

What's in a name?

OK, so what is in a name? For me--a big part of myself. As Jim Croce would say, "And I carry it

with me like my Daddy did."

So the good ole divorce went through on July 28th. This is all part of "TAKING MYSELF BACK!"

Starting Vet Tech school on the 23rd of August. I'm ready materially, but mentally.....

I've never had so many big life changes thrown at me so quickly. I've heard I'll always be one of those people who are "lonely." I don't know quite what they mean by that, but I think it has to do with my unusual way of viewing life.

Well, that's it for now. Gotta get to bed. Catch ya later.

I will begin by saying I disagree with the "give yourself up to a Higher Power, even if it's only this wastebasket." I say, "TAKE YOURSELF BACK!" First, not many of us (if any) know who we are. Second, the implication that you're lower than a wastebasket is seriously ridiculous. Everyone is (on the Inner) an extremely powerful entity. We have been conditioned since birth to lose everything we already have. Since I was about seven years old, I've been different. By the fourth grade, I can remember standing on the playground field with Karen Thoel, talking about Parellel Universes. Of course, I didn't know I was talking about that, but that's where my thoughts were. I don't believe that's the usual type of thinking for a fourth grader. If there's anyone else out there who had like thoughts, please let me know. Oh, and by the way, there is in NO WAY anything special about me. I am an ordinary person with all the ordinary problems and live a basically ordinary life. I just have a bit of a "scewed" perspective of life. I don't pretend to be anything other than what I am. My latest T-Shirt reads "Twisted Bitch." I have taken myself back. Life gets better every day.