Candi Everybody Wants for Thanksgiving

You Know You're Getting Better When

Well, anxiety aside (but not far--within easy reach), I must say I'm very brave.

I teach poetry workshops to the junior high kids every year and I hadn't heard from the teacher's yet this year and had almost decided I would be better off taking a year off anyway. You know, with the crushing social anxiety and all.

But this morning I got a request from the English department chair asking me to come teach for all three 7th grade classes this year and what is my rate. Before my anxiety could reach over and type no thank you because I'm too scared, I typed my rate and said I couldn't wait to see them.

Ok. So, I'll go and have a magic time again. It will be amazing. I will be floating around on poem clouds. I won't be able to eat or stay away from the bathroom the first day I teach. And by the end of the second day I may not have a voice. By the third day I'll be getting sad about the end coming. I'll meet all the 7th graders. They will all write a poem. I will perform (spiritedly read) their poems back to them and make them feel proud of each other and hopefully themselves. I will go by my nickname: Mrs. Peppermint.

Sigh. Thank goodness.

And. OMG. I'm so scared.

You Know You Have Anxiety When:

You know you have anxiety when:
[a.k.a. I know I have anxiety when:]

I just looked at my teeth in the mirror and got really upset and freaked out. I let one of my dentist appointments lapse about three months ago and have been too afraid of "Going To The Dentist" to reschedule my appointment.

I didn't go to the dentist for eleven years one time. Then I had nineteen cavities filled. I have the ceiling of my dentist's office memorized. And all the cd's to listen to when they are drilling your brains out are scratched. Imagine, if you will, having your teeth drilled and listening to Enya skipping for an extended period of minutes.

Anyway, in the past three months my gums have gotten inflamed. Sorry. And well, my roots are exposed on some of my molars. Not just enough for my hygienist to see with her headlamp and mirrors. There are painful brown areas at the gum line. Divots. Crevices of decay. Surely it will lead to cancer.

Now I'll have to suck it up and go to the dentist again. And brush my teeth three or four times a day and floss twice a day and use that restorative mouthwash once a day and a whitening rinse at bedtime. And I'll use that copper-handled rubber tip to poke around my gums.

Now all my stomach muscles are clenched. With anxiety. And because this chair is not very supportive.

Red Lobster a.k.a. Kate Pierson a.k.a. lobster muse