Sometimes I find it difficult to constrain my impulses.

Sage had a friend over, and was demonstrating a ninja kick. So I had to demonstrate how I could (in theory) kick each of them in the head with my superior ninja skills. (Long legs, flexibility and the willingness to be totally uninhibited.)They went into Sage’s room to hang out and I had a sudden flash of self-consciousness, like, what the heck? Aren’t I supposed to be baking cookies or something rather than terrorizing them with the image of a 44-year-old woman doing high kicks and screaming?

Actually, the kids baked the cookies themselves earlier. I turned Sage loose in the kitchen with instructions to use quality ingredients in the correct proportions and order and he invented some seriously yummy spice cookies. Buttery, crisp around the edges, a bit soft in the middle. It was worth breaking my no-sugar-in-the-diet law that I normally comply with.

I got the best complement in possibly my whole entire life last night, though. I was driving Sage and his friend home from Boy Scouts, and they asked me for help with a badge requirement. I told them it wouldn’t be a problem and we’d work on it the next day. Sage’s friend A. said, “Man, Sage, you’re so lucky.” Sage replied, “Why, cause I have such an awesome mom?” A. nodded.

It totally floored me. I feel good about being my wanna-be ninja self.

I. So. Want. To. Win.

Wonderful Paris trip right here!

Today is the last day to enter.

(Margaret, you come to mind…)

We finally made it to the beach, although it wasn’t Pensacola after all. Once again, we went to Galveston, which now feels like it could be a second home, in all its filthy glory.

I still love the Hipstamatic app. No way was I taking the “good” camera anywhere near sand! We played on the beach the last day we were there — not so much the day before. A swimmer was washed away up the beach a bit from us because of the heavy surf. The entire next day they were dragging the water, looking for him on jet-skis and flying helicopters overhead. I couldn’t deal with hanging out at the beach because I kept imagining the body washing up. Sure enough, the next morning it did, a couple of blocks away. Very sad stuff.

Greg told me that someone got bit on the leg by a bull shark the day after we left. Neither of these events is very common, thank goodness.

We went to Kemah, and the guys rode the ancient wooden roller coaster. You can see them if you look closely. Unfortunately, I used the wrong setting on my camera and it came out blurry.

While I was waiting for the roller coaster ride to be over, I took a picture of these flowers. A girl walked past me and asked me to take her picture and was acting all drunk and slutty. I was in a humorless mood, or I’d have a hilarious photo to show you.

Love these boats. Want one.

Back at the beach, Sage and I saw a bird who was enjoying the sensation of flying without actually doing so. He was in this position for about 15 minutes.

I love the tiny houses in Galveston. Perhaps I should send this pic to The Tiny House Blog, which is one of my faves.

I am soooo tired of writing right now. I need another egg for my financial basket anyway, so I am concentrating on learning how to make little coin purses. Yes, that’s the niche I’m going for — coin purses and make-up pouches. This was inspired by my fruitless search for even so much as an adequate coin purse for my pool bag. Surely I can master this craft…

In other news, I am successfully dieting and feeling pretty good, except for the worry about Sky. It’s been nine days since I’ve heard from him, and I just feel worried. I sent him a couple of emails and he hasn’t responded. I called his place in Oregon and they told me that he took off for California and that they hadn’t heard from him either. My biggest challenge sometimes is trying not to go nuts with worry.

Update: Seconds after I posted this, I heard from Sky! Wow! ****Relaxing****

Lots of things have happened since I last posted on this blog.

My dog Salsa died. She was 13 years old, and she simply couldn’t get up one day. We miss her a whole, whole lot.

My older son and I are not seeing eye to eye on some important things.

I’ve been exercising, have lost ten pounds, built some muscle and have a great tan.

I sold some writing for thousands of dollars and replaced the roof on my house.

We got a new car — a light blue Honda Element. I love it. It has a great sound system.

I’ve been driving out of town by myself. It’s only a matter of time before I put Sage in the car and head off to camp on the beach whenever I want.

Sage and I are going with my mom and dad to Pensacola, Florida. They’re renting a condo on the beach and invited us along. Greg is going to catch up with us later in the week.

I’m worrying about my brother. He cannot hold down a job, is depressed, quite overweight and drinking four Dr. Peppers a day. Sugar and schizophrenia are linked, and by all appearances, he may be gearing up for another episode. I’m frustrated that he won’t (can’t?) do anything to help his situation.

I’m concentrating on maintaining an even keel. Focusing on the positives seems to help.

I heard from Sky!

He’s fine.

I’m still not thrilled about his trip, but it’s so, so wonderful to hear that he’s doing okay.

I’ve been writing like crazy — thankfully, I’ve been able to concentrate and really turn out the articles. I realized that if I put my mind to it, I could make the $5,000 I want for a down payment on a new car this month instead of digging into the savings. I really hope the gig that pays out most of this money lasts for a while.

We spent all day yesterday test-driving cars — the Nissan Cube, the Scion XB and the Kia Soul. It was a really close call between the XB and the Soul. We’re probably going to go with the XB because it has quite a bit more pick-up than the Soul.

It felt really good to concentrate so hard on something like that. You know, which car has the best sound system, best interior design, blah blah.

Today we went grocery shopping and ran some errands. After we got back, I laid down to take a nap. Huge mistake. I was tired but didn’t fall asleep, and my mind wandered off in disturbing directions. After an hour, I had worried so much about Sky and his well-being that I felt unable to move in an almost literal way. I haven’t heard from him in almost two weeks, and I emailed him a week ago asking him to contact me.

I would feel better about this whole thing if he hadn’t been tripping or whatever the last time he wrote. It’s risky enough without not being fully aware of one’s surroundings.

So I got up and have been going through the motions of getting ready for company for dinner, and even upbeat music isn’t helping me to feel present.

I used to say that if my kid ever got involved in drugs in any way, I would move to a country where they didn’t do so many of them. I had married Greg a year before problems began to show themselves, and we never did it. I wish I had now. Check out this chart:

I wonder if I can talk Greg into moving to Italy at some point. No way will I ever let Sage touch the stuff, even if I have to chain him to a wall. I never used to care about marijuana much, but it does seem to be a gateway drug, just like they say. I do find it interesting that the Netherlands have lower rates of drug use than the U.S., even with the relaxed standards.

Recently, I read about these so-called “bath salts” and was appalled. What is wrong with our culture? It is eating us alive.

Those of you who have been my blog friends for years know I’m an old-school blogger who blogs to get stuff off of my chest and provide a record of life — good and bad — that I can look back at later. I don’t think about “value to my reader” and other stuff like that. There is no search engine optimization, and I rarely even leave links to it when visiting unfamiliar blogs, since I figure no one is very interested in a protracted story of drug withdrawal. So thank you for understanding.

Yesterday was really tough. I couldn’t walk across the room without getting out of breath. The reason is that the withdrawal throws off my breathing regulators (or whatever they’re called) so that I hyperventilate, even when I’m not anxious. I ignored it and sat my butt down and wrote all day. I also have this thing called “benzo belly” which is most likely due to the fact the gut also has GABA receptors and like the brain, is not happy when they’re downregulated due to withdrawal. I look pregnant.

The good thing is I was able to sleep last night. That is a big deal.

Yesterday, I went to the store and bought loads of veggies. I started out this last part of my taper eating healthily, and then slipped into my old habit of eating carby things like Rice Krispies to calm my brain down — a carb coma can feel good when you’re wired! The bad diet makes the withdrawals worse, though, so I’ve got to cut that out.

Last night, I tried drinking a glass of red wine to calm my body down, but it had the opposite effect. The nerves on my back went crazy and I had this pain where I couldn’t even lean against something. Weird.

I think it’s important for me to remember all this shit because I am going to write a book about it after this is over. I am so incredibly pissed that not only am I having months of withdrawals, but that the stuff never helped to begin with. I’ve said it before — it never ceases to amaze me how the anxiety is GOING AWAY as the drugs do. I don’t think anyone should have to deal with what I have through ignorance about these drugs and their effects. Taking a Xanax or Ativan for a plane trip — fine. Taking them every day for eleven years — not so much.

The thing that messes a lot of people up is that they try to get off of it too fast. They’ll do a taper over a period of a month or two, and then be debilitated by symptoms for months, even years, afterward. Then they think (or are told by docs) that their symptoms are merely a recurrence of the anxiety that they were being medicated for and that they need to start taking it again. Nope. It’s just the brain needing time to adjust.

On another note, I’ve got an idea for getting the weight off once I feel good again. I was thinking that if I had a treadmill, I could run one mile between articles for a total of six miles per day. As it is, I get up and work out with weights and dance for five minutes between articles, which helps me get a minimal amount of exercise, at any rate. Although, the reason I started doing it was to get blood to my brain so I could concentrate better — it works, too! Even a 10-minute mile would be doable, time-wise. I’ve been wanting a treadmill for a while, so we’ll see.

When I am not feeling lazy, I’ll upload some cool pics that I’ve taken with the new camera. It’s a total blast!

Took only 1/4 mg of Ativan this morning — a mere eighth of the amount of poison I used to start my day with. I’m soooo jazzed! I really just want to stop taking it altogether, but the possibility of a seizure is making me be patient.

I read a book that was so good that I would trade every book on my bookshelf for it if I had to. It is called The Mindfulness and Acceptance Workbook for Anxiety and I wish I’d read it years ago. I read it about two months ago, and the ideas have made a huge difference in my life. It’s based on reality-therapy, and presents such a simple concept.

The idea is this — if what you have been doing has not been getting you the results you want, then stop doing it. So for me, that means stop trying to stop anxiety attacks, whether through meds, internal dialogue or whatever. The book points out that anxiety is a part of the human condition, and that it sucks for everyone. Whether or not it become a problem depends entirely upon your reaction to it — meaning the actions you choose to take in response to your feelings. It also points out that futility of fighting with yourself, since you cannot win. Since I have been engaged in my own personal war against anxiety pretty much since Sky was born, I could definitely concede that absolutely nothing was working and that the authors were correct.

The idea that actions do not have to be intertwined with feelings is a revolutionary one for me. I don’t know why — it seems fairly simple — something that I should have figured out many years ago. I don’t know if I didn’t see it because my brain was clouded with Ativan or what. I mean, I have basically spent years preaching exactly that to kids who are acting out feelings in a destructive way. Why I didn’t think it applied to me, I just don’t know.

So my approach now is “Fuck it, if I have an anxiety attack, I’m like millions of other people who deal with uncomfortable feelings. Whatever.” I have to add the “fuck it” part, because the whole language of self-help books annoys the crap out of me. I am not a touchy-feely person and feel slightly nauseous whenever people talk about “honoring one’s beliefs” and “becoming one with the universe” and other phrases that suggest one has attended one too many therapy sessions.

I haven’t heard from Sky this week. I’ve managed to put it out of my mind for the most part, by simply choosing not to think about it.

Sage watched a System of a Down video on YouTube and copied part of the guitar, which was cool to see and hear. The next thing I knew, he had taught himself tabulature and was playing the chorus to another song. All this in a few hours. I really love to see him 1. Want to know something 2. Look it up 3. Look up further explanation for what he has looked up. He’ll be able to learn anything now! Of course, the computer is in the living room, because there are some things I don’t want him to learn.

Anyway, the reality-therapy thing got me looking into Buddhism. That’s what it seems like, really, with the whole focus on mindfulness. I found a meeting here where I live, but when I looked on their site, I found that they believe a lot of crazy-ass things. As do all religions. I am sick of religion and wish there was a way to practice spiritually with others without all the dogma. I am not very motivated to meditate, read scripture, etc. on my own, because basically it is boring. I would ditch the whole thing all together were I not genuinely convinced that there is really something to it all, underneath.

Aside from a couple of the things I mention on this blog, life is good. Real good.

I am saying the serenity prayer over and over in my head. You know, the one that goes, “…accept the things I cannot change…” I see how this could help with addiction, but am not sure how one goes about being able to accept things one does not like.

I got an email from Sky today. The good news is that he’s okay for the most part, and I am really genuinely happy to hear that. But, there are several things I am concerned worried sick going crazy about.

He has been leading “healing mushroom ceremonies” and described being on a beach and meeting a guy who “uploaded thoughts” to his brain. I’m worried he is making himself schizo with his use of hallucinagins.

He is going barefoot. In Guatemala. He says that feeling the pain on his feet helps him to understand how the earth is suffering.

He has no money and doesn’t want any. He is relying on the kindness of the indigenous people in the area to give him food — when he is not picking it up off the ground or eating from the trash.

He is hitchhiking. He also crossed the Mexico/Guatemala border without the fees and gave the authorities problems. They eventually let him go.

Wow. Typing all of this makes me realize that I am in no way being paranoid or overreacting to the group email he finally was able to send. Frankly, I really wish I didn’t know all of this, because there is nothing I can do about it.

He is a wonderful person, but it is obvious something is very wrong. He says he is happy, but why would a person who is happy inside subject themselves to pain and danger?

I wonder what I did wrong. What I could have done differently to help him to love himself more.

He says he is on his way to Peru. The reason, no doubt, is the hallucinogenic crap the shamans are into over there. I know that he fancies himself a shaman himself.

I really don’t know what to do with all of this. Acceptance? The choice seems to be between that and being in a constant state of almost unbearable anxiety.

Accepting it feels wrong. I don’t know how.

At any rate, it feels good to write about it. We can’t talk about it at home in front of Sage, nor am I going to tell my parents about this. Maybe a friend.

My dreams are so much more vivid lately.

Last night, I saw colors that were much more colorful and magical than in real life, traveled all night in a series of helicopters, landed in airports where corrupt officials stole from me and tried to kill me. The weirdest thing was when this guy pulled out a device that he said would suck “all of the human” out of me. It did, and I became war.

Weird stuff. My brain is obviously turning inside out.