Coping with a fear of flying

A nightmare, many years ago, of being in a plane that was going down. I remember feeling it. The pressure in my stomach from the rapid, uncontrolled descent that seemed to go on forever. It was one of those dreams that feels so realistic, you have no choice but to think it either already happened, or would happen in your future.
I think that dream is what started my intense fear of flying.
I've actually flown several times. Once as a kid, I remember it feeling strange, but otherwise it wasn't an issue. I was probably 4 years old.
As an adult, each time I flew, I was locked tense the entire trip. I can't move, I can't eat, can't read, nothing... I just sit, staring out the window. My view of the ground & the clouds is the only bit of control -- the only bit of sanity -- the only 'I'm OK for this moment' -- that I have. On an 8 hour flight, as you can imagine... it's pretty rough.
So the last time I went, I decided to let my doctor know about the anxieties beforehand. She prescribed me a few Ativan to take before & during the flight.
So I've got Ativan in me but I'm doing worse than ever. So I buy one of those mini bottles of wine & take a few sips. I am now in a calm haze. Not 'OK' really, but coping.
Layover in Minnesota ... outside to get air & a smoke ... "I'm not getting back on," I say. Let's
rent a car. A car? It's snowing. Are you nuts? We're 3 hours from home... or 3 days if
we drive....
So we go back in. Since we'd gone outside, we had to go through the whole safety check / security line again. Wouldn't you know it, I get randomly chosen to be pulled from the line of hundreds of suspicious-looking characters. While I'm standing there barefoot, being felt-up by one of the not-so-bad-looking security people because the rivets in my jeans set off the wand, I wonder what's next ... & think to myself ..... "is this a sign?"
They decide I'm not a threat to the public after they've have searched every inch of me & my carry-on & finally allow me to put my Nike's back on. We power-walk the 1/2 mile to our gate. The plane has already been loading but we get there in time. I take a deep breath. They take my boarding pass & scan it & it beeps. The guy tries it again. Beep-p-p-p-p. He gets on the phone & calls someone, he speaks quietly so I have no idea who he called or what's going on. The security person who had gotten to know me so well 10 minutes earlier, shows up & tells him I had gone through the checkpoint & everything should be fine. He says he can't let me on without them fixing my ticket.
We power-walk the 1/2 mile back to the security area, they scan my ticket, & we power walk back to the gate again.
Another deep breath.
Scan. Beep-p-p-p-p. They look at each other, shrug, & tell me to go ahead.
This I find very comforting... and once again I'm wondering, is this a sign? Am I supposed to not get on this plane?
We get on. We sit.
Now keep in mind, my buzz is COMPLETELY gone by now. I need to self-medicate. I pull the 1/2 full mini-bottle of wine out of my carry-on & take a sip. I sit... & pray.
A very effeminate male flight attendant is offering beverages to the passengers. He gets to us & I'm just sitting there like a stone, clutching my wine. I say: "no thank you, I don't need a beverage right now". He looks down at my white knuckles, still clutching my white zinfandel. He snarls like a woman scorned & says: "where'd you get a-that!?" "On our last plane..." I replied. "Well..." in an even snottier tone, he says: "you shouldn't have been allowed to, it's against the rules!" I told him they had checked my carry-on & no one said anything. "well, they should have, you can't bring wine from one plane to another". He whined. They were both Delta planes I told him. "It doesn't matter, it's against the rules, you can't keep it ..." & he held out his hand.
Now this partial-ounce of wine cost me four bucks, & I'm not one to waste... so I look him in the eye, twist off the mini cap, chug the 1/2 bottle, and hand it to him empty. His response was a disgusted sounding: "oh... that's nice" (with a neck-roll). I respond to his highness by telling him that I would like a beverage after all. And I order another bottle.
The dink brought me my wine, took my $4 and I didn't see him again.

The plane took off & my self-medicating techniques started kicking in & the flight home was actually really nice. Beautiful sunset. I found that to be quite calming... (yes, I'm sure it was the sunset & not the alcohol.)

Well, that was the last time I was on an airplane. So, how does a person cope with a fear of flying? Prescription drugs, alcohol, & several distractions. That, and vowing to never fly again.

GrammaBurp Proverb

"Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day.
Smack him upside the head with a 4 lb bass
& he'll gut it & cook it his damn self."

and THAT'S, a GrammaBurp Proverb

The GrammaBurp Story

How It All Started ...

When I was 13, my friend Kim broke her leg. Apparently there'd been some unnecessary roughness during a soccer game. She asked me to sign her cast. I'd never signed a cast before, so I looked to see what the other kids had written. There were names, happy faces and other "heal fast" wishes. I wrote: "Hit her back." Well, Kim laughed -- really hard -- & so did her mom. I really wasn't trying to be funny, I just wanted to write the right thing.

Over the years, whenever a card was being passed around at work for everyone to sign, I became well known for writing very 'different' things. People actually waited to see what I had written.

I'll never forget the first card idea I sold. It was a humorous get well card. Oatmeal Studios bought it. The best part of selling it was knowing that potentially thousands of people would feel the healing power of laughter, because of the card I wrote. There's something amazing in that.

Then one day while browsing the internet, I saw some old black & white snapshots. The photos spoke to me. I started hearing funny captions that would go along with them, so I bought the photos.

When I resigned from my thirteen year human services job & decided to start my own business, I'd already had photos, poetry & greeting cards published. I attended Berkshire Enterprises, an intensive entrepreneurial training program in Pittsfield, MA. They provided me with practical business knowledge & gave me the tools & skills I needed to develop, operate and manage my own business. I did a ton of market research. And with their help I developed my implementation strategies & wrote my business plan.

Well, that's how it all started. If only I had figured it out way back when I was signing the cast on Kim's leg.

Oh, & in case you were wondering, the business name "GrammaBurp" came about after my granddaughter was born. My son-in-law was in Iraq, so my daughter & baby Nora were staying with us. Nora didn't always burp after feedings, but for some reason, I was almost always able to get her to burp -- even when everyone else had failed. So every 4 hours or so, my daughter would call out: "Gramma ... Burp!" And it just stuck.

Another one of our new fridge magnets ...

My retailers tell me this one FLIES off the shelves. I asked: "Is it mostly college kids?" They said: "No ... you'd be surprised at who is buying them!"

:-)

LAUGHING myself to sleep

Y'all know how it goes, you hit one site, which leads you to another & another & it's HIGHLY entertaining & we love it!!! That's why we're all internet addicts .... ANYWAY my 'go to bed early' campaign lasted about as long as my last diet, and here I am.... Rosie's blog is always a good read, decent links too, today I click on john mayer's blog link & OH MY GOD ... I had NO IDEA the guy was so freakin funny! .... & that, of course, lead me to stand-up comedian Dov Davidoff's blog. & I nearly wet myself.

Check 'em out .... enjoy!

Goin' to bed now .... hopefully.

How 13 years became 5 years.

I have always had a problem with authority - I don't like following other peoples rules... that's part of the reason I started my own business. I worked for a mental health agency for 13 years. I was one of the little guys who did the hardest work & received a salary that was very, very difficult to live on. We (the little guys) all felt as though we were doing God's work. Fighting the good fight. Standing up for the people who couldn't stand up for themselves. Advocating for them so they didn't get completely fucked over by society. One of the most amazing things that happened to me during that time was something I completely didn't expect. A client came up to me in the grocery store & said: "I'll never forget what you did for me, you saved my life. "Huh?" I said. The Doctors said I would've died if I'd gotten to the hospital even one minute later." Now, I didn't think I had done anything special. None of us ever did really. 90% of the time, the days were uneventful. The most important thing we did on a daily basis was spend time with people. They really did appreciate us just being there. About 1/2 the staff truly cared about the clients. And we'd do everything we could for them. The extra stuff that no one else would do. Shoveling snow or cleaning for them, bringing meals, bringing holiday gifts or when we knew they were broke & out of cigarettes, we'd get them some (& it was against the rules to give gifts or smokes). And when emergencies happened, you'd assess the situation, make a decision, do what you had to do & get back to the regular daily stuff. So the woman who told me I had saved her life took me by surprise because I didn't really think much of the situation when it happened. She was having a medical issue, it was obvious. I happened to be at her neighbors, giving him his medications. I had 2 choices - drive her to the hospital 1/2 mile away, or call an ambulance 10 minutes away. I flew them up there, dropped them off & went back to work. See what I mean? And that's happened a few times... well, not that specifically, but that kind of thing. The rewards from that job were "feel-good" rewards. Never monetary.
Over the course of those 13 years, I learned a lot about life. And I learned a lot about how not to run a business.
It all ended on the day they inter-office mailed me one of those big yellow envelopes with holes in it -- with 100 previous reciepients names all crossed off. Inside the envelope was a "Thank you for you continued service to the agency", photocopied letter. There was also a gift. A service pin that I was to wear proudly on my lapel. The pin said: "dedicated service award - 5 years". FIVE YEARS? FIVE YEARS!?! Are they fucking serious!?! So naturally, I lost it. I was laughing! I was in shock. I was pacing. I was staring out the window of the shitty office I had spent so many years of my life coming in & out of... and I knew. "That's it." I said. "That's the last straw." The other staff were silent, wide-eyed, eyebrows-raised. "I'm not doing this anymore". I said.

13 years & they had finally broken me. Shortly thereafter I turned in my 2 week notice / letter of resignation, packed my shit & never NEVER looked back.

There's a heck of a lot more to the story, which I may or may not get into as I blog. But what you just read, is the overview, the general gist of things. And that's how 13 years, became 5 years.

Second Life

I recently discovered SecondLife.com. If you haven't tried it, I would recommend it. Kind of awkward at first, like learning to walk ... pointless and a spectacular waste of time, but it's a whole new world & actually kind of fun. Quotes from the other night while I was playing it, while on the phone with my daughter; "holy shit! I can fly!" ... "oops, sorry dude, didn't mean to slam into you like that" ... "hey! I saw this wicked cool house & they had a pool with a spiral slide, so I landed in it to take a quick dip & those bastards had me teleported! How rude." ... "Ummm, I'm walking around in my underwear" ... "how the hell do I get out of here?" ... You get the idea.

What do YOU want to be when you grow up?

What do YOU want to be when you grow up?

How many times did we hear that question. And what's the point?

Here's what I think;
10% of us have parents who tell us what we're going to be. No choice involved there.
50% of of don't figure out 'what we want to be when we grow up' until our 30's or 40's.
20% of us never figure it out.
20% actually know what we want, what we love more than anything... since childhood... predestined. Like my brother, who as a 4 year old, would point to airplanes flying overhead & say "that's gonna be me someday!". (Yes, he pilots commercial planes now.)

Me? I'm 41 and I'm still figuring it out. I always said "I can do a little bit of everything" But I was never an expert at anything. More recently I've accepted the fact that I get bored easily. And because I'm a little good at a lot of things, I'm really not so worried anymore about what I'm gonna be when I grow up. I know that, for me, there may not be just one right thing. If I live long enough, I may have the opportunity to be many things. It's like having many lives within one. And it's a good thing.

New fridge magnets

One of our new fridge magnets. The design has been one of our best selling greeting cards for a while now, so I thought it'd make a thuper fridge magnet novelty item :-)

Comments welcome, let me know what y'all think.

Embracing fears & thoughts of inadequacy.

"I never felt comfortable with myself, because I was never part of the majority. I always felt awkward and shy and on the outside of the momentum of my friends' lives... I had to essentially get over my fear of running through the world naked and say, 'take me or leave me.' "
Steven Spielberg

I can SO relate to Mr. Spielberg in what he says there. The only difference being that he has grabbed hold of his fears & thoughts of inadequacy & he's embraced them & used them. I'm still working on it. What a challenge.

He also said, "I dream for a living."

I don't know what it is... maybe because my brain has rested, but in the morning ... I get up & I'm all over the place. My brain is going 100 MPH -- imagining situations, random thoughts -- craziness all of it. If you were to see me 1st thing in the morning, you'd know. One-woman conversations, & usually laughing out loud at myself. But, it's definitely the time of day that I get the most done.... well, once I settle down & stop talking to myself. The AM is when I write my best cards.

I remember my parents telling me that my teachers were 'concerned' because I was not paying attention enough in class. They called it 'daydreaming'.

Parents: Don't let your children's teachers punish your kid for daydreaming. It's a sign of creativity. They can't stop it & even if they wanted to, they shouldn't. It's a good thing.