Yesterday was “one of those days”. You know – the kind where you sort of wish you had never gotten out of bed, because as the hours wear on, things just get worse and worse? It started out okay – my therapist (who I am enjoying and liking even tho she is starting to be “be” more therapist like – “would you say that is correct?” etc.) gave me a goal for the week. Only cry 3 days, and only not get the proper amount of sleep for 3 days – meaning don’t sleep til noon. I figure I got this. I can suck it up. Still trying to get used to the term PTSD for myself. But it’s okay – it’s a diagnosis, like bi-polar or something, so at least we have something to work with. Well, okay – LOTS of things to work with!!!! LOL!!!
So I do okay with the sleep (I did much better last night, lmao!!) – I get up at 7:30 am, let the dogs out, get coffee, start goofing around on FB. Fun times! The phone rings – it’s the dentist – they have a cancellation – can I come in? Well – I WAS going to go grocery shopping, but okay – let’s just get this over and done with. So I say fine, see you at 1. Then I open the big pack of papers from the disability lawyer. 45 fucking minutes on the phone with this dude (recommended by my primary) with all my info pulled up in front of him on his computer, and every piece of paper with my name on it is spelled wrong. Ami. Nope. *buzzer sound* So I call, and the LOVELY bitch on the other end says “Just change it – it doesn’t matter – it goes by your SS# anyway *click*” Lovely. So I do some more goofing off on FB – let’s just waste time instead of doing anything important (well – I DID print out some coupons – yay me….), I get ready and I go. Get to the PO, grab my mail, find out I never put a stamp on my car payment (yes, the bank that holds that loan does NOT have a way to pay online – how quaint), go back to the car, get a dollar, buy a stamp, am now really pissed and go to the dentist’s office. Where I proceed to wait 40 minutes for the promised cancellation, all the while texting furiously to my daughter that she and her fiance MUST go get health insurance RIGHT MEOW because they both have health issues that need addressing, even though they are both almost 22 and know everything. FINALLY get in, get my work done, find out about what release I need from who for what, show off my way cool xrays for my operation – did I ever post them here – I should do that – and head home. Get home, open my last ever Wantable box and am filled with sorrow, because it is filled with the coolest stuff I have ever gotten from them, and I HAD to give it up – things like insurance and shit is foremost – Wantable had to go. Get an email from someone who was making me something I forgot about – get upset over that, but she lowered the price, so I said great, went to pay it and hit the wrong button on Paypal and now I am teetering on the brink of sanity. Call Paypal – no can do from their end – must stop payment on my end. FML. I then notice a plethora of activity next door, instantly know it means my neighbor has passed, and my first thought was “I wonder if DeDe could buy his car?”. How absolutely horrible that was. I am shocked – where the hell did THAT come from – that isn’t me – I am a compassionate person – WTF???? I am now in tears (exercise from therapy FAIL), the back door bangs – the dogs go insane – it is my other neighbor telling me the gentleman HAD passed, and the family was there, if I wanted to offer my condolences. Um- I just had REALLY bad thoughts about the deceased’s car and my lack of compassion – I don’t think it would be a good idea, plus I never know what to say, so I go back inside and decide to to deal with my car to give me something to do. It needs a front left tie rod end, wheel alignment and two new tires to pass inspection in December, but I want it road worthy to start making trips to Albany to prep for my lovely surgery (which is starting to flip me out because more and more people are telling me how horrible and awful it is and and and…). So I email a friend, ask if he can help – he says no, he’d need this that and the other thing, and was I going to take the neighbor’s cat? I said no – I am already in deep shit with my kid over my pets – I am not about to add another one to the mix.
So I call my local dealer, mention I have AAA, plus some customer coupons – could they give me a quote please (I already have one from Monro). They extremely lovely Cee You Next Tuesday service manager gives me a quote that is about 10x what Monro did – their labor rate is more than the national debt. I thank her for her time, she hangs up on me (what is with these bitches today??) and call my local mechanic. He’s busy – I will call him in the morning. Fine. Put down the quote, and then realize I never got the second check I asked for to cover all this damn work, so back on the phone to TD Take All Your Money and find out what happened. 20 minutes later, I find out they never sent the damn the damn check. I CHECK my temper, ask nicely if they could please send it out NOW, and hang up. I am now having thoughts of a very nice glass of wine…no bueno, Ame Baby – you have come too far to blow it now. Take a few deep breaths, email some people, and then remember what the therapist had said about after care when I get done being sliced and diced. Call my ortho’s PA – all of them have lovely PA’s who don’t answer their phones. Leave a message while trying not to lose it about the check and the car and more thoughts of a cocktail – this time a lovely large Svedka and seltzer over ice. The phone rings (there go my minutes on the phone this month, I am sure) – it’s the PA. She explains I will most likely be sent to a rehabilitation facility afterwards because I live alone, and have no one to help me. I sputter WHAT???? and she says that is the most likely scenario, but that they will do that before discharge – discuss things with me, make decisions on home aid versus rehab facility, etc. Hang up with her (wow – only nice female on the phone today) and TOTALLY melt down. Epic nuclear proportions. Email Val and Karen, text DeDe and then call my mother (shock) who thank the goddess answers the damn phone. I loose my shit. I am wailing I want a drink, nothing is going right, I fucked everything up, I am going to be homeless in 7 months, my $$ isn’t here – OMG the crap that came pouring out would have won me an Oscar had it been filmed. Scarlett O’Hara had NOTHING on how drama queen I was being. Carry on about how everyone keeps saying how strong I am and I amn’t <— new word, on and on and on. I really did want a drink, though. Like – I really really would have given anything to just get rip roaring drunk. She tells me everything will be fine, it’s okat, I am not horrible, people will be there to help (yeah? WHO?), etc. 45 minutes later (I now KNOW I am going to be fucked by AT&T for over minutes) I finally get off the phone with my mother, who is off to her chicken club meeting, not an AA one (chicken club?? fried, with mayo???) , email Val who was frantically trying to call, email Pete and DeDe and take a deep breath. Crisis over – hopefully. Install MS Office (old copy) on laptop (prays it works – it does – go me!!). Go back to FB, chat with a few people who care, ask Jennie why I didn’t get a baby shower invite – she says they haven’t gone out yet, how was I so I told her – that was the end of THAT convo, lol, send out a prayer request for Donna’s hubby, remember her auction the nanosecond it is over (not that I can buy anything anyway), play with Justin and Azure, take my pills, post the worst post ever for a book release (which I did fix this morning), have 3 cupcakes for dinner at 9 pm (fuck my body), do some ebay feedback and Steve texts me. Did I see his picture in the paper. I say no, because after reading the local paper whist sitting and having a double decaf espresso and some quiche while waiting for therapy and realizing just how right wing slanted it is, I vow to never read it again. I go their site, plug in his name, and an obit from January pops up with a woman named Marion from across the river who left a son named Stephen Ulmer. Steve’s mom’s name is Marion. That freaked me out totally, so I emailed that to him and finally decided I need sleep. I crashed. Totally crashed.
So today is another day. Up at 5:30, re-do blog, get morning FB out of the way, decided to post here, and now Steve is blowing up my phone while getting tires on his car (WAY more expensive than mine, and mine aren’t cheap!!) and going to move forward on a more positive note today. 🙂 I am even going to print out the morning yoga thing I found and try that. What I REALLY want to do is go back to bed. But no. I will not. I will be strong.
I got the eye of the tiger, the fire
Dancing through the fire
‘Cause I am a champion, and you’re gonna hear me roar
Louder, louder than a lion
‘Cause I am a champion, and you’re gonna hear me roar!
So, what’s the point spread on me having another meltdown today? 😉
Oh yeah – PS – you GO, Sinead O’Connor. Stand up for mental health and Miley’s setback of the sexualization of women and put that little dumb ass bitch in her place. Miley – keep your damn tongue in your mouth, stop twerking, stop trying to be “ratchet” and go back to singing nicely, like you did when you did Jolene. And STFU!!!!!!