Broken Bella Donna











{October 26, 2012}  

Peeved.

I am something of an… amateur in my hobby of choice. I have had a respectable amount of stuff published in a few of the local rags and have had very positive feedback from those who are employed there. I’ve sold some of my stuff privately. Unlike many of the DSLR toting ‘professionals’ I actually have some background in photography, have done the hard yards and studied the subject when you used SLRs not DSLRs. That is to say I am an active member of the “Owning a DSLR doesn’t automatically make you a photographer, tossbag” camp.

So I can just borderline tolerate it when, in situations where I have always done the official photography for an event, by request, some upstart dickhead pops up with their DSLR and gets in my fucking way constantly standing between me and the action like they’re entitled to be there, even though the previous year they didn’t even own a damn camera let alone earn the right to get under my feet.

But this takes the cake.

I can understand the paper fucking up and crediting their name to my photo. But for them to turn around and claim it? That it was theirs? Is bullshit. I have the damn proof on my computer. Little tossbag. And I can’t even argue the point without looking like a bitch.

Grrr.

Anywho.

(I’m the kinda person to use the word anywho.)

After having successfully battled through the gamut of other stuff in my life, spazz attack free, I am preparing to take on tomorrow – the other event that caused me much spazz 2011. Feeling a little unsure about it TBH. Fear that there’s a great chance I’m going to spazz out in the morning… though I know once I get there, I’ll be fine. It’s the getting there that’s the problem. You know those people who say ‘getting there is half the fun’? Well for me, it’s the absolute worst.

I’m supposed to be getting out of bed in six hours. Do not feel remotely sleepy, just mildly concerned. The sort of dread that prefaces a day when you know there’s a great chance you’re going to be forced to do something that goes against every fibre of your very being.

That’s the thing about spazz attacks…

Just take a situation where you’ve felt nothing but fear; the primal urge to turn and run like hell. Your body revolts, you want to throw up, your pulse races, your bowels loosen, you break into a sweat, your head rings. You pace constantly, dry heaving, trying to find somewhere to hide where you can burn out the stress without being seen, where you can throw up. Your brain is screaming GO GO GO GO GO GO GO GO NOW OR YOU’LL DO SOMETHING SO BAD, SO REDICULOUS, SO BIZARRE YOU’LL BE JUDGED FOREVER MORE. GO! For you this might occur if you find yourself in a physically violent situation, or a dangerous situation like a plane crash, perhaps in hospital when a loved one is dying. Pure adrenaline backed fear.

Imagine feeling that way… because you’re going to see a friend. Because you have to get into a car to travel 10 minutes.

Imagine feeling that when you’re trying to go to sleep, lying in bed.

Because you’re serving a customer and you can’t just walk away.

The world closes in around you, you feel like your whole stomach and organs are rising in your chest to settle on your lungs.

Because you want to go fucking shopping.

This… this is what I’ve been fighting with for nearly 16 years. This is what I anticipate I’ll be fighting in approx 7 hours.

OR.

There’s the offchance I’ll wake up and… be fine. And nothing will happen. And life will be rosy. That’s what happened last time, with my spazz inducing occasion… it just never occurred. I was calm and cool and collected.

Is it asking too much for this run to continue?

I hope my multi vitamins work.

Still no inner ear issues, so that’s a good thing. Have felt a little inner-ear-ie without it coming to anything a few times, but hoping that’s written off to allergies, not anything more sinister.

Girlie dog still battling her issues. I’ve become resigned to the whole thing now, which is kinda sad but at the same time, at least it means I can live with it. Much to my surprise. Question is – how long can she? Two people I know have lost their dogs in the past week, both times I heard I cried, and haven’t even met either dog. I suspect the impending demise of my girl is bothering me more than perhaps I have been admitting to myself. Knowing that soon I will be in the same shoes as these sad dog owners 😦

WordPress spellcheck doesn’t like DSLR, tossbag or dickhead! Get up to date, wordpress!

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