Technical...err...Emotional Difficulties

Remember back in the day when you would sometimes turn to a TV channel and instead of a program there would be a message "Experiencing Technical Difficulties, please stand by."

What if you clicked on a favorite blog and there was a message that said, "Experiencing Emotional Difficulties, please stand by."

Just saying. . .

Don't worry, I'm fine. I just mean that there has been a longer pause on my blog than I intended because I was a bit stressed. It seems I can write when I am happy, or when I am sad, I can even write when I am mad. BUT when I am the emotional equivilent of a shaken soda, I can't think clearly let alone write.

The fact that I am writing this now is an indicator that I am feeling better, so no worries. Why was I so stressed? Suffice it to say, on top of a stressful job that keeps me up at night, literally, and almost a half dozen children, we moved. . .need I say more?

Bobbi Jones Jones

All this makes me think, what if we all had signs, I mean not just on the blog, but on a t-shirt or a name tag? You know, for those bad days? Something along the lines of "Danger, do not approach" or "PMS: Enough said", "Bottled TNT" or "Emotional level: Nuclear Alert".

If we had signs like this then on a "Nuclear Alert" sort of day, some unsuspecting store clerk won't ask, "how are you?" and get blasted with an honest answer. Or an oblivious husband won't ask, "what are you planning to do today?" and be nuked by his wife for his trouble. If I were wearing a "Bottled TNT" sign, my children would have fair warning that they better get their chores done, or find shelter. In short, the world would be a better place.

Maybe simply a sign that says, "Emotional difficulties: Please stand by."

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Photo Attribution: Bobbi Jones Jones

My Room 101

You know I hate spoilers, but I must. . .

At the end of the book, 1984 by George Orwell, one of the characters is tortured by being forced to face his worst fear. Throughout the book, the character Winston had nightmares about rats. So he is taken to Room 101 where a cage full of rats is strapped to his head, to eat his face. He breaks and gives his enemies what they want. I don't blame him.

Last week I could have sworn that I was in Room 101 facing my worst fear. (Truth be told I have a ridiculous number of fears and this might not be the worst, but allow me a little poetic license here. . .)

I have a phobia, as I am told many people do, of the dentist. I don't care about the shots or the x-rays, but I dread everything else about it starting with that horrible chair! It makes me feel vunderable like a child, and that is almost insufferable. I don't even like to have my teeth cleaned because of the chair and the fact that metal touching my teeth for me is what nails on the chalkboard are to others. Ewww!

Like many people with phobias, my response to this has been to avoid the dentist. Which, naturally has taken a toll on my teeth, which I can no longer ignore if I want to keep them.

The cause of phobias is not certain, though scientists believe they can be genetic or from tramatic experiences. I say let's blame it on the genes.

So my dentist office is trying to work with me. I have to say they have been really great. They offered me Laughing Gas and Valium if the Laughing Gas was not enough. I decided to try just the Laughing Gas.

The first time with the Gas was wonderful. Seriously, wonderful is not a strong enough word. I was completely relaxed and in my own little world of philosophical thoughts. I thought to myself, "Wow, if this is what it is like to be drunk, it is no wonder people get addicted!" I actually found myself looking forward to my next appointment!

Phobia cured! Right? Sadly no. . .I don't know what happened, but the next time the Gas did not make me laugh. It did not make me relax. It had precisly the opposite effect. I felt more scared than ever, and on the verge of tears the whole time. (I did cry for a good long time in my van as soon as I got out of there.) The gas dulled my mind enough that I couldn't think of how to tell the dentist what the problem was. Each time he started the drill I would practically jump out of the chair and he would stop and ask if he was hurting me. I would shake my head no, and he would start again.

What is the hand signal for I feel like I am in a nightmare and I can't wake up?

Phobias are irrational. And yet knowing this does not lessen the fear. Logically, I can tell myself that the dentist was really kind, and that nothing bad happened that day other than my fears. but it's like my phobia does not speak English. I have considered the Valium option for next time, but have a fear (likely irrational) that it will put me in that fearful state for a couple hours until it wears off.

I have another appointment with Room 101 on Aug 24th, whatever shall I do?

How about you? What are your phobias? Are there people who don't have any phobias? Is that possible? How do you tame your fears?

Tame your fear. . .I like that. Next time I'm in the chair in Room 101, I'll imagine that I am a lion tamer and I will crack the whip on my fears. Yeah, that will help. You believe that don't you? Ok, me neither. Ugh.