Blogging as Panic Attack Therapy

Let's see how this goes. I am awake, it's 3:00 a.m. and I'm mid panic attack. Two xanax (just the .25 mg ones, not the heavy duty stuff) under my belt, I think the edge might be off, but I thought blogging might help, so here I am.

Hey, did I mention that I finished my SIP? A SIP for those of you who don't know anyone who attened Kalamazoo College, is a Senior Individualized Project. Essentially it's a thesis, that you have to complete to get your bachelor's degree from Kalamazoo. I finished taking classes at Kalamazoo in 1990. I never did my SIP. I did other stuff, like gettting pregnant, procrastinating, getting pregnant again and procrastinating some more, getting pregnant one more time and procrastinating again, working at my favorite library in the world, the Blair Memorial Library for seven years and raising my children as a mostly stay at home mom, and eventually moving to the tundra of Alpena (which this winter wasn't so much of a tundra). I have a great job up here at the library, but it's really part time and I was getting a little bored and my husband pushed me just hard enough over the line (really he called Kalamazoo and figured out exactly what I needed to do to finish) that I enrolled for my SIP. And about a month ago I finished it and mailed it in, all prettily packaged in that famous Black Folder.

This was quite a feat for me. I never thought I would do that kind of a SIP. When I was at K, I was going to student teach (they don't even have a teaching program anymore from what I hear) and that didn't require an actual researchy sort of SIP. And at that time in my life, the thought of doing a 30 page French literature analysis sort of made me feel queasy. Hell, it made me feel even queasier this time, but I buckled down and with the help of my advisor, Dr. Kathy Smith, I managed to do it. My french was atrocious, but it's sort of like riding a bike. After a while phrases and vocabulary started coming back to me, but in the beginning, I'm sure my writing sounded like a french kindergartener's - if not worse! But it must have been good enough in the end, because last week I found out I passed!

Now I just have to fulfil the P.E. requirements. Yes, one of the bonuses of going to a liberal arts college is that whole "well-rounded" education thing they are so big on. I was supposed to have had six gym classes while at Kalamazoo. Did I mention I am probably the least athletic person you will ever know? I finished two. Aerobics and Yoga. I dropped out of Ballroom Dance! So now, to make up those four credits I am officially a member of the Bay Athletic Club in Alpena Mi. My butt is on the treadmill at least 3 times a week until the summer in over and I've fulfilled my requirements. It's not so bad if you go at the right time. Early morning isn't so good, because all the real die hards are there and it's crowded and I get an inferiority complex when the girl on the next treadmill is full out running a marathon and I'm walking at the lowly 3 miles an hour speed. After school is brutal because all the high school boys, including some of my sons friends are on the ellipticals which are behind the treadmills, so I feel a little self-conscious. I mean, those boys know I'm fat, but do they really want to be looking at the fat, forty year old mom working out in front of them? No. So I've determined the best time is around 9 am to noon. This way, I get the little old men who remind me of my dad and the middle aged ladies who are shaped like me. I plug in the Ipod with my daughter's music on it, and off to the races I go. If by races you understand s.....l.....o.....w and steady wins the race! I'm trying. But I don't believe any of that bullshit about how someday I will just LOVE it and not be able to live without it! Let's get real - there is SO much I'd rather be doing. Knitting, reading, watching tv. Unfortunately those aren't going to get me the bachelor's degree. So off to the gym I go.

I think this might have worked. I think I might go lay down and watch some tv. Not FOX news, which my husband listens to when he has insomnia because he likes to point out all the factual mistakes they are making. That doesn't work for me, my blood pressure skyrockets and I yell at Glenn Beck or Sean Hannity or whatever "reporter" they might be featuring at the time. No, I enjoy reruns of Roseanne when I can't sleep, or any of the Real Housewives franchises from Bravo. We'll see what I can find.