So yesterday’s ‘sick out’ proved an efficient brain reboot. Toward afternoon the panic and inertia passed and I got up, did dishes, cleaned cat boxes, started washing laundry, vacuumed, cooked a good meal. Spook and I were medded and bedded by 7 p.m. though it took me quite a bit longer to fall asleep as we ran out of melatonin. I even blocked the cats from my room so I could sleep. And I did…for 40 minutes before a text from R came in asking if he had given me enough money to cover me coming into the shop this week while he’s still out of state. HUH? He’s been gone two weeks and what he did give me for Christmas and gas went toward a vet bill for Shady so…But I wasn’t about to let him fuck up my lingering Xanax-sleepiness so I sent a simple “nope” text and went back to sleep.
Only to waken again at 3 a.m. Toss, turn, go to the bathroom, check on kid and cats, back to bed, huddling under covers cos hey, my heat is still out and it wasn’t even an issue cos it was 70 degrees outside but the nights are a lot colder…In the midst of checking in on my kid, I accidentally woke her and was treated to 90 minutes of trying to get her to go back to sleep so I could, as well…Took 0.5 mg Xanax and nada…up,down, toss, turn. The anxiety of this shop situation, R, and my finances has me a damned trainwreck. The good news was, 4 a.m. I checked my bank balance and yay, the check was deposited thus negating my immediate need to tell R Yeah, we need you to get us some stuff…HATE doing that. It never ceases to amaze me how he will loan a couple hundred to Mark or whoever, no questions asked, but then, they all have jobs so they are more worthy than fronting me $20 without guilt, considering how much I do to help him. It’s not boasting or holding something over his head, it is fact. If anyone deserves the help, it’s the disabled mom with a small child, don’cha think? But nooo, I gotta grovel and be made to feel subhuman and he says it’s all in my head but he’s full of shit. Because I’ve been present when Kenny or Mark or Jim or whoever asked to bum $20 or whatever, and not once has he ever said, “You’re broke already? What do you do with your money?”
He says it to me almost every single fucking time. And I am EARNING the good favor yet still get insulted and made to feel shitty.
Finally around 5 a.m. I started to nod off. Down side, when the alarm went off, Xanax haze told me I still needed to sleep. Amazing how it doesn’t make me at all sleepy during the day or even immediately at night, but if I take it after midnight or whatever, come alarm time, I’m all groggy and lethargic. How does that even fucking work? But I got up and moving.
Yesterday’s brain reboot worked. I got dressed, loaded up wet laundry, put gas in the car, got a few cleaning supplies, came to the shop. To find I’d misseded Ex package and some angry customer tried to pick her TV up three days in a row and left a furious post it note. Join the fucking club, there are so many angry customers right now. And R won’t listen to me. He just says he will get to it when he gets to it, fuck them. If his mechanic treated him that way towards his car, he’d punch him. Yet he carries on that way and it’s me and the customers who are wrong. He needs to pick a job and do it and let the other go and since this shop is gasping and death rattling, just close it down. Much as I see a need for the business…
Fifty plus years it has operated under the current name and in the 9 or so years since R took it over, it managed to stay afloat, barely, but he was just that good at what he does. He still is. But if it takes six months to get one item fixed because this other job has him all tied up out of state and such….GIVE IT UP ALREADY. Because he is tarnishing this place’s name, ruining it, basically. The customers are what matters and his whole ‘fuck them, it will get done when I have the time’ thing is wrecking it. No, maybe you’re not entitled to instant service but if something’s been sitting 3 months and not even diagnosed…death knoll. Bring on the coffins.
I am ranting. It’s okay. I need a good rant. I’ve already got a guy coming to pick up something he left in September, another man who wanted a home install, and all I can do is gush meaningless apologies to everyone and try not to take their irritation or blatant hostility in some cases, personally. Which, fyi, with panic disorder, is pretty much impossible. If apathy were a remote default for me, I’d choose it over constantly feeling overwhelmed, guilty, weak, angry, sad, etc.
Which is one more thing to bring up with nurse practitioner- I thought it was just hormones but for four weeks now I have been tearing up at the drop of the hat and it’s not my norm on mood stabilizers so it’s a sign the antidepressant combo’s not working. I am loathe to drop Trintellix, in spite of it having the bizarre side effect of making my scalp itch and giving me the constant delusion I have head lice….because nasty side effects or not, it has kept me up and shambling. I think, like all my other meds, after a year, Wellbutrin has just decided to give up on me. Can’t wait to see how she handles being told this. Just the thought of her ‘would you like fries with that’ apathy makes me cringe and never want to go back.
For months I have agonized and told myself it’s all me, I am the one with an attitude problem, perception problem, she’s just inexperienced and I am impatient…But really, she’s just not a good fit, certainly not for someone with an extensive med resistant history like I have. Time to go back to Dr. B, IF he will even take me back. Which they’d better fit me in because changing me to doc nurse was THEIR doing, if he had room for other patients, there was no reason to change me. Idgets.
Ranting and venting aside…while I am sure word made it to R I didn’t come in yesterday but truth is, I don’t care. The reboot was what it took to get me through a tough mental health day and here I am, back on both feet, accomplishing stuff even if my stomach is churning with dread and anxiety. Maybe needing a break makes me weak or maybe it was just a really smart move the so called psych professional could have sugested. If one day helped this much, imagine what a few weeks might do to help me.
Unfortunately, she’ll be far too busy asking about my appetite and sleep to suggest a break would be good for my mental health. That and making me feel like I am being asked if I want fries with that burger.
Mental health care in this place is a fucking joke.