Today was…bizarre. Started out okay enough in spite of the dreaded pre shark week cramps (which certainly explains why my emotions have been hair trigger.)
An hour into my servitude at the shop (well,I’d been to the library to do an errand for him and grabbed some books for myself, and after the high of the smell of books and the feel of crisp pages…everything else is bound to be a letdown.)
Yeah, I am the queen of run on sentences and MIA points. Hard to be clear when your brain is tangled in cobwebs 24-7. I TRY.
so, yeah…Shop. Nothing was going right for him. Again. And rather than recognize that’s pretty much the norm for others, he started acting like it was some plot aimed solely at him. He was frustrated (*I get it) and grumpy and on edge.
Oddly when I am those same things, it starts a fight. One set of rules for me, another set for him.
To my credit, I was in the hellish land of cramps strong enough to double me over and all I could do was clock watch. Tick tock. Is it time to go yet? Can I escape yet? Fuck, I’ve only been here two hours????
That mindset, on top of physical pain, pretty much renders me desolate. My inability to remember the numbers he was throwing at me to search was pissing him off because he thought I was doing it on purpose. Um. No. My short term memory, as far as numbers go, does not exist. I sometimes think it’s a byproduct of all the psych drugs,not that pharma or the docs would ever acknowledge it. Like it’s turned parts of my brains into swiss cheese.
I think the point where I really went into “get me the fuck outta here” mode was when I was on the phone with a customer who was uneasy ordering the part for his tv lest he get the wrong one and asked if we could do it. I was still on the phone with the customer and R finally blew and started to scream,and I mean scream, “Fucckkkkkk!’
And I get lectured about being professional.
It didn’t get better. I got the manual he told me he needed. I made him double check,he said it was the one…Then he got it and realized he needed one for the model number, not the chassis number. Which I pointedly asked prior to clicking the purchase button. So…more ranting from him.
I clock watched. Tried to walk off the cramps by pacing but all that did was agitate my sore back and aching muscles. I was miserable and he wouldn’t have noticed, or cared,had I been on fire. I am not dramatizing. He really is that self absorbed and oblivious.
I was never so glad to flee that scene.
Of course, had to stop at a couple of stores after fetching my kid. Then got stuck waiting on a school bus letting off a child who apparently moves slower than a turtle. Irate didn’t begin to cover it because I’d been outside my bubble too long and my nerves were raw.
Coming home and chilling out helped. Until the phone rang, company appeared, right as we were about to eat supper. So I get the nervousness, the crankiness from having our routine upset, and the joy of Dr. Evil’s Mini Me living in my uterus and wrapping his fists around my ovaries and squeezing at odd intervals.
I’m pretty sure I don’t have simple PMS. This sounds more like that menstrual dysphoric disorder.
Throw in bipolar and anxiety…
instant train wreck.
It’s happening whether I like it or not. Getting colder, my motivation is nil, I am either freezing cold or flushed then cold again. I don’t want to get up even after hitting snooze six times. i look forward to facing the day as much as one would when facing a firing squad.
I think what is killing me more than the moods, depression and anxiety…is the inability to focus and concentrate. This has been going on too damned long and the stupid shrinks always say,this med will help with that…
It never does. I can’t watch a damn ninety minute movie. My thoughts swirl, I’m juggling then different thought bubbles in my head…I can’t shut it off without alcohol or a sleeping pill and the pills have such bad hangovers, I’d rather gargle razor blades than take them.
This weekend will be recharge time,gearing up for Halloween week. I will NOT be taking her to the school’s Monster Bash. Because while the kids gather in the gym in their costumes for fun and entertainment…the parents have to attend “parent academy”. Um…I don’t do crowds. I especially don’t like the idea of taking my kid to something and being forced to ditch her rather than be able to enjoy the time with her. Guess that makes me selfish.
I think I will just take her to some safe trick or treating and a few houses on Halloween night.
I’m falling short here, but I am trying, even if every fibre of my being aches and is overwhelmed and sore and exhausted.
Now…having spewed this barely coherent completely off topic rant… my back is killing me and I really just want to lay flat on my back on the bed with Juju purring on me.
And I also need to start thinking about how to make the tail for my kid’s devil costume.
She’s got the horns built in ;)
Originally posted on 
