Thursday, April 22, 2010

Spitting your anger into an imaginary ocean


(Hi from my lunch break at work.)

This picture has no purpose, actually, except for the fact that I like taking big damn pictures of my face while I'm hanging upside down. (I think I'm hanging off an elephant's trunk. Getcho minds out of the gutter.)

I'm not going to talk about that Belleza Elle skin because by now you've probably read about it on a much better blog. Yeah, I like it. Not as much as Alyson, but it's a'ight. (I have no clue how to spell that word.)

So I've been gone for a while.

It started with getting rushed to the hospital -- OK wait, that sounds melodramatic, try "swiftly driven to the hospital" instead -- a few weeks ago because I thought I was having a heart attack. And what's funny is, all I was really thinking during that rush was, "Oh my God, I'm gonna end up being one of those 30-something-year-old chicks who have a heart attack and, as such, become part of a little-known statistic in an American Heart Association pamphlet." (Heart disease is the No. 1 killer of women.)


Not "Oh shoot, my heart is about to explode" or "These could be my last moments on Earth," but "Damn, my legacy will be part of some doctor's office pamphlet that no one is really going to read."


Oh the things we think about when our lives are in potential danger

But it wasn't a heart attack. It was a panic attack -- a bad one. Gee, that's not embarrassing or anything.

The whole experience made me worry about what would happen if we really did have a zombie war.

Like, I always thought I'd be one of the "kick ass until I get chomped" zombie fighters, but now I'm worried that I might be one of those chicks that, you know, scream, cry, fall down a lot, freak out, hyperventilate and basically annoy the hell out of everyone until somebody says, "Just throw her to the zombies as a distraction and then let's all haul ass."

Um . . . I'd better follow the rules for being a good blogger and break up this text with a picture:


Neigh. (Try a high-res pic next time, Emerald.)

This is what my viewer looks like these days: distorted and stretched. I look like a forlorn horse.

The only things that save this pic are the hair (Giada in Almond by Truth, with texture-change script for the headband) and yet another one of terri.tees' ROCKIN' T-shirts. This one's called Hooked and it's a free gift in Terri Wardell's store right now, along with two other hilarious tees in separate boxes.

"I'm hooked on sex!"
"And drugs!!!"

Chortle. I love that store, seriously. I've never met Terri -- she's like this T-shirt fairy who occasionally drops awesomeness in my inventory for possible review -- but if I ever do meet her, she will get glomped.

So yes, these days my face looks all horsey on my viewer and The Bunny isn't doing so well either:


Uh. Yep. I sleep with the lights on now.

OK so back to panic, because I'm really low on SL material at the moment, but OH SO RICH in RL adventures. I'll try to blend them though. *gets out the mixer*

That case of the Mean Reds eventually landed me in the office of an Executive Development Counselor. I'm pretty sure that title is a euphemism for "a shrink who deals with corporate working stiffs who are loony but not loony enough to get out of working altogether."

Apparently my company has a running ACCOUNT with the guy. Hey, presidents of companies across America, if your work environment is so damn stressful that you need to retain the ongoing services of a local shrink, maybe there's something wrong with your company. I mean, it's not like we're first responders or police officers or firefighters or heart surgeons. We're just PR flacks.

So, um, yeah, I got hooked up with a package deal of six sessions with Dr. Tell Me About Your Childhood. I've made it through two of them and I'm already having a really hard time keeping a straight face. He's pretty woo-woo, and not in a "Can you woo woo woooooooooo?" Jeffrey Osborne-kind of way. For instance, in just two appointments:

-- I've pretended to be hypnotized while I pretended to travel back in time and give my eight-year-old self a big hug. (She told me to screw off.)

-- I've tapped vigorously on my chest for what seemed like an hour to open up my heart chakra. (Ask me to show you my bruise.)

-- And, my all time favorite, I've collected ALL MY ANGER in my MOUTH and SPIT IT far out into the ocean.

Never mind that there's no ocean in Tennessee. We created an imaginary one.

"Do you have a problem imagining a place that only exists in your head, a place where you can always go to heal?" he asked.

(Dude, I'm currently paying RENT for some imaginary LAND so I can live in an imaginary HOUSE that only exists on my COMPUTER SCREEN, so I really don't think we're gonna have a problem with that one.)

I'm done spitting though. For all I know, he's filming me and that sh*t is gonna show up on YouTube any day now. Plus, I'm worried that he's gonna ask me to POOP out my anger next time. And possibly throw it at someone. Like a monkey. You think I'm joking, but I'm being dead serious.

There will be no more anger excretion. I'm putting my foot down.

In fact, I want a new shrink. Surely there must be some other "Corporate Development Counselor" out there. I want a kindly Jamaican grandmother-type instead, with reggae playing in the background instead of dolphins wailing in disgust because someone stuck them on a New Age CD.

Or a wise old karate master.

"Wax on, wax off. Mind clean, car clean, The End. You're fixed. Now get out there and bust some bricks with your bare hands."

STOP! Bad picture time!


That hair is the new Emme (in Almond) from Truth and I'm partial to it because that's a happy name. My SL friends call me Em or Emmy and it always makes me smile — in my case it makes my life seem not so, well, green. And NO, that's not why he gave it that name, but YES I'm totally diggin' it. I'm all about the sloppy sexy look.

You can change the ribbon color. And the only reason it's slicing through my shoulder is because I'm magic. (And too lazy to mod it.)

The Froggie shirt is another terri.tees creation (25L) and proves that Terri can do simple and charming just as well as she can do hilarious. The jeans are League's Garage Jeans in Turquoise. The skin is Alyson 7 by Belleza, cleavage option of course.

There's been a lot of talk about crediting the pose creators in blog posts lately, and I totally agree that we should do that. I'm not posing (no, reallly????), but that "hold on a sec while I brush my hair away from my face" move is courtesy of Trin Trevellion's Play AO at SINDecade. I love it so much, I will never ever ever give it up. Strangers always ask me where I got it. That's where, kiddies!

That sausage arm hanging down like a butcher-shop bargain is courtesy of Emerald Being an Idiot.

(LOOK! The bunny got camera-ready all of a sudden! So nice to see your furry face, Bunny!)

Finally, I feel like I need to address some recent and somewhat disturbing . . . SHOOT HERE COMES MY BOSS!!!


Lysistrata Szapira said...

It's great to have you back. I've missed your hiliarous take on life.

I've HAD a heart attack, GF, and I'm glad you did NOT have one. **hugs**

The problem is that now that I've had one I find myself having panic attacks every time my chest or my arms hurt. It's not pretty.

I probably would have just pretended the therapist was the ocean and spit on him, but then again that would go in your employment file. EEK.

God knows what's in mine, but we don't have corporate shrinks.

And why is my captcha "edicat"? I think there are subliminal messages hidden in those damn things.

Emerald Wynn said...

Lysis! ♥

Yep, now I'm kind of panicked about having another panic attack and I learned that worrying about panic attacks actually is the No. 1 cause of more panic attacks so it's like a HAMSTER WHEEL!!!

I'm too young to be talking about my heart! So are you!

The shrink, yeah, apparently all the VPs and other higher ups at my company go to see him as an "executive perk," but I don't trust him. He swears it's all confidential but who can you trust these days? No one. Just the rabbit in the corner.

Not only that, we're supposed to be learning "interpersonal techniques to diffuse confrontation and stressful communication with clients." I don't want to spit into an imaginary ocean. I just want to kick ass at work. Is that too much to ask?? Mr. Miyagi would say "Nope, not at all, Emerald-san!" And then we'd practice The Crane.

Haha - edicat. "Etiquette for cats." "Etiquette for dealing with catty women." MY GOD, the possibilities are endless!

Phoenix Chapman said...

Heheh this was hilarious in that secret way people won't talk about because it seems like we're making light of your condition. As someone who has gone to the hospital in the not-so-distant past with chest pains, I can totally sympathize, and also with the horrible shrink who makes you wanna laugh-slash-punch-him more than anything else.

Emme was named after one of my best friends, Emme Mannonen :D But you can pretend it's after you if you want. I say Nadia is really Phoenix 2.0 cuz it's the same resource I asked him to make for me way back in the day.

Emerald Wynn said...

After many lame hints on my part, he was gracious enough to name the Emerald hair after me last month -- shoot, or maybe it was February? -- which was beyond awesome of him, and I truly love it. He's a genuinely nice guy.

Emme is a beautiful name -- your friend should be really happy. The hair is a perfect fit for it. And hell yeah, I'm gonna rock that Emme hair and fantasize that it's another step closer to taking over the WHOLE DAMN STORE! :)

(he's gonna run out of names soon at the rate he's going)

"The condition" — haha. My job is so stressful. I didn't realize how much it was affecting me. I just need balance. Take away my playtime and I guess my heart starts to hurt. :)

nimil said...

i am glad you are ok! i've had panic attacks like that and its not fun :( the shrink sounds ridiculous though.

Truth said...

mmm noms your sausage arm!

Alicia Chenaux said...

Years ago, I used to work for a company that handled the mental health/substance abuse insurance for most of the Fortune 500 companies in the US. Yeah, you have your EAP, but mostly likely you have mental health insurance that takes care of getting you a better psychologist, should you choose to go that route. :) At the time, our biggest client was Cingular - those of you in the phone business all end up going insane!

The word verification for this is "Pedsto," which for some reason makes me laugh a lot. Or maybe that was the mojito. I dunno.

Emerald Wynn said...

(did somebody say 'mojito' ? :D )

Yeah, we have behavioral health insurance - the deductible is $3K.

As for this dude, my company said, "This one's on us." (Oh lord. Wonderful.) I just feel a little tricked because they assured me he really was an EXECUTIVE DEVELOPMENT counselor -- like, I thought he was going to help me with mad people skills in the treacherous world of corporate politics.

I didn't know we were going to exploring the needs of my inner child. :-\

Chiara Laszlo said...

I'm sorry to hear what happened to you. I wish you all the best and less stressful times soon.

Hugs xox Chiara

Chalice Carling said...

Oh sorry you've had a rough time. Just try to be kind to yourself and minimize stress where possible. This episode is telling you something so try to listen.

Thank god your sense of humor hasn't left you. xx

Gwendolyn said...

Emerald Wynn, I love you so much! You are so real and so funny and so gdamn right on in what you see and how you say it. I read your columns and see such strenghth and grace under that thin veil of looney :) Let's talk soon...I'll walk you through the whole heart chakra thing (and hint, it's got nothing to do with you tapping yourself).

Heidi Halberstadt said...

Oh Em, I wish I could make you blog every day, you're so damn funny. And I agree, thinking you are having a heart attack is scary. But rest assured that having a panic attack isn't the lowest of low. No, that would be having an anxiety attack, which is like a panic attack, except it's ALL IN YOUR HEAD. Nothing like telling the EMS that your heart is racing and the heart monitor they have you on is bleeping away nice and regular. "'K, thanks guys, let's cancel that ride to the hospital, let me off here and I'll walk back home!"
So, when can I expect you to come in-world for some playtime???

Steven said...

I was at Microsoft when I went to the hospital for chest pains. I think chest pains cause anxiety and it all spirals terribly.

I will pass you a therapists chair for SL and you can find your inner tiny.

Big hugs, warm wishes and I am just glad you are feet side down.

Aisuru Rieko said...

nice to see you and bunny back on form

Random Calliope said...

And that's why I became addicted. Lemme see your bruise.

Pretty please.

Emerald Wynn said...

*glomps everybody*

And hey, it's the LONG LOST RANDOM CALLIOPE!!! ♥

Jalestra said...

Emerald, I know this is way late because I've been very busy, but you would not be the chick they threw back at the zombies. I had panic attacks way back and I use to get into fights all the time (don't ask). I assure you that one has nothing to do with the other LOL

I remember looking for a therapist back then (yeah, anger issues obviously) and jeez, the difficulty in finding someone who wants to address the REAL issue. Woo woo abounds and it took me months to finally find someone who would sit down and say "what's the problem, what do you want to happen, here's what we're going to do". At least you're having fun with it! lol