This public blogging thing might be a mistake on my part This could be my stroked equivalent of drunk dialing. Too much time on my hand(s) and skewed emotions aren't the best combo unless I were a brilliant creative type, which I'm not. But venting to an anonymous audience that knows firsthand some of the things I'm encountering, is too much to resist. Thank you for your patience ahead of time.
About the lability... Last week, I was meeting a casual friend at the museum to see the new Mammoth/ mastodon exhibit. Since the stroke I don't do much without a plan. I mean, I list, I google map my route, I call, I double check everything. I've been to the museum twice since I had the stroke. I thought I had it all figured out. The rules about parking, the schematic of the building and where I needed to go, prices...I was set. It all went as planned until I emerged from the underground parking and expected as before, for security to usher me left through an inner door into the museum. I asked the guard behind the window desk If I could go through and he said I needed to go right and enter through the outside museum front entrance. Oh...how far is that? About half a block....ok, I not going to claim handicap status, and I'll do it...and here is where I get *beep* at this liability bulls**t. I immediately start thinking...stairs? railings? damn, I left my coat in the car...heavy doors? busy? ...ok, just do it, don't whine,...it's a challenge.. it's no big deal...you'll feel great when you get in the front door...shut-up and move. And the leaking eye stuff starts as soon as a gust of wind hits me across the expanse of imperfect roughly textured flagstone open territory ahead. and I feel vulnerable and angry at myself for being such a wuss and my eyes are still leaking and I think I'll have time to get complete control by the time I get to the front. Then about 20 yards later, I hear 'ma'am!' from the security guard who has come outside after no doubt realizing the miscommunication when he saw me shambling away. damn...control...stop leaking!and the wheelchair offers begin and I can't talk because the words are stuck in my throat...and I'm mortified by this display that is everything that I am not and become someone's work anecdote for the day.and...I was going the wrong way once I went outside. arg.
In the scheme of things, this is no big whoop...and I need to get past giving a damn about the emotions that are triggering it and/or the results when they happen. Finer compartmentalization skills? Take up Tequila? EST?One armed boxing lessons? Aversion therapy?Not avoidance..no..no..no..I will not avoid every possible unknown encounter more than I already do by my obsessive planning...oh, and this was the second time I got emotional at the museum. The first time I got lost and was anxiety ridden late. Then there was a concert hall(bravo Duke Ellington Orchestra, btw) when I realized I was unable to sidle past legs to get to my ticketed seat and the aisle felt like a cliff walk and I was going to have to ask people to move and be the focus of attention.. gah. I'm reasonably articulate and polite and engage strangers without qualms in other situations. and I'm embarrassed about being embarrassed and wonder if this is some version of self loathing or denial or distrust of the world to be kind when I'm not invulnerable.