2/27/14. The post where I talk about safety plans and safety pins.

2/27/14: apparently my body has gotten wise to the almond milk trick.  I had trouble falling asleep and staying asleep, and was already in the 7.5-8 range before I even got out of bed.  This gave me plenty of time in the night to think, which is not always a good thing.  One of the things I thought about was "safety plans."

Yesterday, I read the synopsis of a recent lecture on coping with chronic pain that was posted by the RSD association.  A recurring theme of the lecture was developing and using a safety plan for times when the pain is so overwhelming you can't think rationally.  I'm having a difficult time imagining this scenario.  But then again, I have been dealing with this for months, not years, and fortunately the really bad episodes have been relatively brief.

I like to be prepared. (Those of you who know me well are not surprised by this news flash.)  I could have cleaned up if I had ever appeared on "Let's Make a Deal."  A quick scan of my purse reveals, in addition to the things you'd normally expect to see:

- a Swiss Army knife (complete with a corkscrew, because, well...you know why)

- a small flashlight (which I can tell you from experience comes in handy if you are in a public restroom and the electricity goes out)

- two pairs of sunglasses (in case one pair breaks)

- two sets of ear plugs

- two packages of travel tissue (are you noticing a theme yet?)

- enough medication/first aid to rival most pharmacies

- a coin purse filled with about $4 in change (in case I need to make a long-distance call from a pay phone in 1973) and,

- about 30 safety pins.

This may explain why my purse weighs 20 pounds and my shoulder is always sore, but I almost always have anything I, or anyone in my general vicinity, might need.  I was in a musical a few years ago.  (Bear with me - I promise this is going somewhere.) About an hour before the first show, a piece of fabric tore open on a crucial set piece. As the director began to panic, I ran to my purse and produced my 30 safety pins.  After thanking me, he asked me why I carry so many safety pins with me.  My response? "Hey, don't judge. Just be glad I do."

So, you get the picture.  I like to be prepared.  During my late night ponderings, suddenly it hit me. A safety plan? No one told me I was supposed to have a safety plan.  Why don't I have a safety plan? What should a safety plan even look like? I can't believe I don't have a safety plan.

But after much thought, I realized I do have a safety plan.  It may not be formal, but it exists.  You are part of my safety plan. This blog is part of my safety plan.  My patient, long-suffering husband is part of my safety plan.  My family and friends are part of my safety plan.  It turns out that not only do I have a safety plan, it's a pretty good one.  Can't believe I doubted my preparedness.

Now that I've settled that issue, I can go back to worrying about whether 30 safety pins are enough. Maybe I'll add a few more, just in case. 

(P.S. I had a movie clip I wanted to include, but I couldn't find it anywhere on the Internet.  You'll just have to trust me that it would have been awesome.)