Sometimes, the Head Just Pounds

Last year, when I suffered from a bout of anxiety, brought upon by spending too much time alone, smoking weed, worrying about my book and facing mid-life worries, I became obsessed with my health.

It was not pretty.

I did calm down. I just had to be with people again and I had to cease the weed and I did the ol’ “think good thoughts” thing and I was back on my feet in a great, productive way.

Now, whenever I feel funky about my stomach (which has never been the greatest) or my allergies (which have always plagued me. As a kid---I once went into a coma from a bee sting, another time, they had to put a needle through my chest and into my heart because of some bad reaction)--I simply say, “Well, at least it isn’t Cystic Fibrosis.” I let myself know that what I have isn’t lethal, and, the thing does pass, and I’m back with the greedy and the ambitious, trying to take over the world.

And I am glad for this grateful way of looking at things.

However, sometimes, I just feel like crap. And it so often has to do with the weather...
I’m like a barometer for bad air quality. And I have to say, the air is getting worse.

Every year.

So, I do all these things (Steam, salt water, some drugs) in order to be able to handle it. And I’m not even worried about it. I just take care of it. But I have to say, like the canary in the coal mine, something is up out there.