Chaotic Moments

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I lived in a strange world. Disorder and confusion were normal. If they weren't going on I would begin to wonder. I come from a life of such happenings as my granddaughter on the front lawn in handcuffs, my daughter living homeless with a newborn, my grandson having little or no contact with his father until he was eight years old, and my psychotic husband pointed a loaded rifle at me. (I mean come one-- what more can a woman's/ mother's /grandmother's heart handle?) Normal life is where I seem to always be close to knocking my head up against a hard stone wall. Poverty, mental issues, marriage to psychotic men, housing rules, idiocy showed me by people I have to deal with, lack of food at the second part of the month, the evening news, bank notifications, and overcharge fees due to anxiety and not adding correctly, changes in any area, sad movies, and sudden squirrel attacks. I envy an old friend who told me once she used to drive out of town and find a lonely place to scream for five or ten minutes. That would be SO nice. Yes, PTSD wedged itself in there somewhere too. Well, fast forward 35 years. Order and regular happenings make it so I can breathe. I have a great sensitivity to small changes in my precariously balanced life. Lack of organization = I don't understand, it doesn't compute. I just can't handle it. And then the panic attack begins with rashes on my arms, body shakes, nausea, overactive bladder, dry mouth, and confused thinking. Normal and I can breathe. Something I can depend on and I sleep at night. People around me acting normally and I am not a shaking mess. Day-to-day normality and I am happy. Please!