Try, try, try again

So I was officially rejected by Build A Bear.  This was very disappointing, so I promptly ate all the chocolate candies in the house.  Then some pork chops.  Then some pistachios, or however you spell that.  We stopped by Barnes and Noble today to see the cafe manager who had been interested in hiring me, but I guess something happened between the last time I talked to her and now because she said that they have a hiring freeze, but John thinks she was lying and she really didn’t want to hire me after all.

I’m too ill to find/keep a job, but not ill enough for disability.  It just sucks. 

I’ve applied to like 15 or so jobs since then.  Hopefully one will bite.  I’m hoping it’s one of the ones I really want, instead of the desperation jobs.  Heck, even Lane Bryant didn’t call me back.

This all sucks, and totally turned my mixed episode into depression.

Not much going on…

Things have been approaching normal, mood-wise, so that explains why I don’t post more.  I don’t know why being depressed is a catalyst for writing, but that’s how it goes.  Things were pretty much heading towards a hypomanic episode, but now I think it was just a mixed episode, heading back downwards to depression.

I had two interviews with Build A Bear, and they were supposed to call me either late last week or early this week.  Is Wednesday still considered early?  John said I should go there and just check in to see what’s going on, but now I just figure they don’t want me.  Barnes and Noble is supposed to call next week to set up an interview, but I’m not holding my breath on that one either.

I started playing EQ2 on the Splitpaw server.  I remade the mystic I was playing over on Butcherblock, and everything was really exciting at first, getting back into contact with friends from Supreme and going out to kill lots of things, but now I’m feeling left out.  I suspect it’s my paranoia emerging again, but I feel like everyone’s talking to each other about things outside of guild chat while I sit there wondering what’s going on.  It’s like there’s not a place for me there, and they PL’d me in order to be able to have a full guild group. I’m not geared enough to join most of the raids, so I suppose that’s most of it. One of the people there always makes me feel inadequate and really makes me want to leave the guild. This is pretty much why I stopped playing in the guild in Butcherblock and just played with non-guilded alts.

Am I that uninteresting? Probably.  At least John still thinks I’m interesting.

Sleep has been scant the last week or so.  I just can’t fall asleep, and then I wake up too early.  I keep screwing up cooking projects and ruining pans and knocking things over and making messes.  I think I should just stay in bed until next year.

Another Day, Another Dollar… Oh Wait…

So we had a lengthy discussion last night and are doing better today.  Not perfect, but better.  I hope the pdoc can get this Lamictal to a therapeutic dose soon, because I think the trazodone is making more prone to bouts of depression.  Ugh.  That, or I’ve had a really crappy week.  Could be both.  I think the blog entry was good because it helped me focus on things enough to be coherant and not just be quiet and cry while he tried to figure out what “mmmph mmph mmmmmph” meant.

Anyway, foot is still being stupid, but I have two more episodes of Angel Season Two to watch, and then I get to laugh as John tries to play a football game on the PS2.  Oh!  And the heating guy is coming over today so maybe we will have a warm house at last and not have to huddle in the bedroom where our only sources of heat are three computers, a heating pad, and lots of layers.  John wanted to get a portable heater from WalMart, but I am deathly afraid of heaters, as well as deep fryers.

No random song lyrics today

My brain is tired.  Or I’m just tired.  Whatever, tired is involved.

I rescheduled my therapy appointment today because 1) my foot hurts and 2) I didn’t want to pay another huge frikkin copay when I (and by “I” I mean John) had to pay a stupid $75 copay for the urgent care, which was hugely better than the $200 copay we’d have had to pay at the ER.  I could have waited until today to go to the doctor’s office since that copay is only $25, but I also owe them money from when they removed my mole-that-was-not-a-mole, so that would have ended up costing more money.  I hate that we have sucky insurance, but at least we have some insurance.  Of course now we’re going broke because of it all, and that just makes my tummy hurt.

John is so stressed out about the money situation that it’s starting to make me want to smack him upside the head.  It also makes me want to run away.  He’s havin a rough time at work as well, so he’s extra super cranky.  The work stuff alone has been enough to turn him into a spring wound too tightly, add the fact that his Grandma Miriam fell and messed up her knee and is in the hospital and might not ever come back home, our heater stopped working on Christmas Day, car insurance is due (he pays every six months so it’s huge when it’s due), AND his car is looking like it needs some expensive brake work.  Oh, and his filling are falling out and his mouth is messed up from the lost fillings and getting sores and he won’t go to the dentist because that’s more money that we don’t have.  So every time I go to the pdoc or therapist or have to get prescriptions refilled, I feel like I’m letting him down.  If I weren’t here, he’d have enough money to go to the damn dentist.

Last night we had an explosive non-fight (aka we got mad, he slammed some doors, and we did some ignoring until I fell asleep) because apparently I’m putting expectations on him and that’s all people ever do to him, and he doesn’t even have one person who doesn’t expect something from him, when he doesn’t put expectations on anyone.  Um, everyone has expectations for each person in his or her life.  Yes, I realize he’s stressed, but there’s only so many times I can offer comfort and advice and then watch him do absolutely nothing with it.  And I also realize that I probably have not been as supportive as a normal person could be because I’ve been dealing with my own stuff, stuff that he doesn’t really believe is a problem, so I get little support from him for that reason, plus pile on the work/money stress, and it’s really not going well.

Add to that the fact that I’m the one initiating any “sexy time” 99.9% of the time, and 99.9% of the time I try, I get rejected.  My brain knows that he’s under a lot of stress and all, but there’s only so many times I can hear “it’s not you it’s me” before I stop believing it.  Rejection is rejection, no matter how you try to sugarcoat it.  I’m tired of feeling like a roommate.  I mean how hard is it to just snuggle with me or spend like a minute kissing.  When I’m really upset, I feel like someone pulled a bait and switch on me.  I mean, two times a month?  So of course now he’s mad because I made him feel guilty.  We’ve had this talk before.  We’ve had this argument before.  I’m tired of it.  If you’re not going to bother to at least do a little something to try to make things better, and I’m talking like a miniscule amount of effort, then I’m done.  I’m tired of feeling like an unattractive fat cow.  You can tell me that you think I’m beautiful and sexy, but in the end, words are not enough.

I’m starting to feel like I need to get away for a few days.  Maybe I’ll do that once all the New Year stuff is done.

Whataya Want From Me?

First off, my monitor is being twitchy.  I think it needs some epileptic meds or something.  It can’t have my Lamictal.

I know an update is overdue, but I’ve been busy with the kids, trying not to turn into a blubbery mess, and had I updated, well, the visit would have been ruined because I was a blubbery mess.

Sunday – went ice skating with the kids.  I used to be able to skate, and I used to have lots of fun with it, but apparently (after figuring it out) that was 14 years ago.  Now I cannot skate, and I have lots of pain with it.  Taryn and I had hot chocolate and watched the boys skate/crash/skate/crash/crash/skate until I got too cold and said that was it.  It was an expensive activity as well, with all four of us getting skates while John went to get a beer.  Still, fun and mostly worth it, except for the snobby rich people who were all showing off their skating skills and crowding me with their fancy coats and scarves and yelling past me at their stupid preppy kids with their “I either drink too much or smoke too much or both” gravelly voices.  I giggled when one of the adults was showing off and ate some ice.

Monday – Ugh.  I had my second appointment with the T.  It did not go well.  She probably thought it was going well, but in my head it was not going well.  My own personal peanut gallery (and very snarky they are usually) had quite a few things to say about it.  But first, I should have known the day was going to suck because I totally got off the wrong exit on the way there and had to turn around and try again.

Remember, this is all from my point of view, and my point of view may or may not be completely connected with reality. 

I think we were talking about why I don’t like people.  I’m not sure, because what led up to it wasn’t specially chosen to make it to the memory bin.  I talked about how I had begun thinking about the past and key moments in my life, and I told her about the whole “friends who didn’t want to be my friends anymore” bit.

T:  Why do you think they didn’t want to be your friend anymore?

Me:  Well, because they said I was too needy or clingy or something.

T:  And why do you think they said that?

Peanut Gallery:  Um, duh, they said it because they thought I was too needy or clingy or something?  I’m not a damn mind reader.

Me:  Um, because I was too needy or clingy or something?

T:  And why do you say that?

Peanut Gallery:  Duh, because that’s what they told me.

Me:  Because that’s what they told me.  (So far the peanut gallery and I are on the same page.)

T:  Blah blah blah blah blah blah (or for you Peanuts fans, wha wha wha wha whuh) Do you realize you are letting children control your life?

Peanut Gallery:  Hold on there, Sally!  I never said they were controlling my life, I said that incident was part  of a vast myriad of experiences that has made me who I am.  It was just one of many switches pulled that led to me sitting in this stupid chair that’s not even comfortable.  PLUS – what happens to us as children is a HUGE factor in determining the path that we take as adults.  There’s no sudden delineation from child to adult.  Childhood is the foundation.  How are you a therapist????

Me:  Oh.  (Peanut Gallery scoffs.)

T:  Blah blah blah blah You should do some volunteer work, with shut-ins or elderly people.

Peanut Gallery:  WHAT?  Are you shitting me?  Seriously.  Did you not scribble down in that file that I am terrified of meeting new people, and that I hate most people, and I don’t like to leave my house?  I know I told you that.  I may have forgotten some stuff, but I KNOW I told you that.

Me:  *blink*

T:  This will be a good way to satisfy the need you have to feel special, and help other people as well.

Peanut Gallery:  Doesn’t everyone have a need to feel special?  I told her about my mom beating me with kitchen utensils and kicked me until I was able to crawl into my room and shut the door while my sister tried to get her to stop and how I had to change in the bathroom stalls for gym class so no one would see that my back was a glorious sunset of colors ranging from purple to yellow.  I told her about it seemed like my dad didn’t seem to do anything when I told him so I didn’t tell anyone.  I also told her about how my sister and I pretty grew up with little to no parental supervision.  Of course I need to feel special! 

Me:  I really don’t like interacting with people I don’t know. 

Peanut Gallery:  DUH!  Isn’t that in that file?  Are you actually writing anything down or are you just making a grocery list?  Or maybe you’re just doodling.

T:  But once you keep visiting them, you’ll get to know them.

Peanut Gallery:  Or, I will never show up and just create a new toon on EQ2.

Me:  I don’t think it’s the right thing for me.

T:  Isn’t the initial discomfort worth the reward you’ll get from helping these people?

Peanut Gallery:  Aren’t we supposed to be helping ME?  I mean, yes, volunteer work is great and all, but I am not at the point where I can help other people.  And “initial discomfort” doesn’t even begin to encompass the giant anxiety monster with the steel-spiked boots who will stomp me.  Pffft!

Me:  I guess so, but I really don’t like interacting with people I don’t know.

T:  Blah blah blah blah blah You seem very personable, but you don’t have to decide now.  Just think about it.

Peanut Gallery:  Of course I seem very personable, because I don’t know you, and you don’t know me.  It’s called “This is my mask to wear when I am interacting with authority figures.  I’m not going to show you who I really am until I trust you, which apparently is not going to happen any time soon.

Me:  Okay.

I’m sure there was more, and maybe Trae can remind me of what I ranted to her about over the phone and in the car, but I don’t remember.  I know it was only the second visit, and while I felt optimistic at first, I don’t think she’s the T for me.  She kept trying to push me into doing things that might seem logical to a person whose thought process wouldn’t be described as “erratic and bouncy,” but I am not there yet.  In the end, I felt like an idiot and frustrated on top of that.  She’s not a mind reader, but whatever tack she’s taking, it’s not working for me.  I could be a grownup and tell her my issues with her, but we all know that I will just end up cancelling and never seeing her again.  Because confrontation makes my tummy hurt.

So I get home from seeing T, and I gather up the kids to take them to the mall to get the birth certificates for their Build-A-Bears and get the right AC cord for Ethan’s DS Lite.  They’re all ready to go and we go outside when I realize I locked my keys in the house.  And because I’m paranoid about people breaking into the house, all of the windows are locked, and of course the back door is double-locked.  I thought briefly about knocking one of the glass panes out of the door, but I knew that John would be angry and then I’d have an open pane where other people could break in.  For about 5 minutes, I just didn’t know what to do.  It was cold, and we had no way to get into the house or even sit in the car.  Eventually I told them we would just walk to the restaurant a few blocks down, eat, and then figure out what to do.  On the way there, I decided we would talk the bus to the McDonald’s and eat and then figure out what to do.  Then I thought, hey, if I take the bus, we can figure out how to get to John’s work and get his keys.

We walked to the bus stop, which had a bus schedule on it.  It said there was a bus at 12:05pm, with the next bus coming at 1:50pm.  I looked over at the bank down the street that shows the time and the weather, and it said 12:07pm.  I started praying that the bus was running late and we hadn’t missed it, because it was really cold.  I was hopeful, because I hadn’t seen a bus pass, and we would have seen it as we walked to the bus stop.  Still, I could have not seen it because I was paying attention to the bus going to McDonald’s, and not the bus going the other way.  Luckily, the bus was running late, and we boarded.  We had to ride the bus to the light rail train station, wait for the train, then ride to the transfer station downtown.  Then we had to wait for the bus that went near John’s work, which was apparently one of the last stops for that particular bus.  By the time we got there, almost 3 hours had passed.  John fed us, and we took his car and went home.  Needless to say, we didn’t go to the mall.

I know it seems silly to get so upset about all of that, but all I wanted to do at the end of it was just crawl into the closet and bawl my eyes out.  I couldn’t, though, because the day was stressful enough for the kids, and they didn’t the added stress of a mom who couldn’t deal.  I went to pick John up from work, and he was so stressed with work that he couldn’t deal with my stuff, and I couldn’t help him either.  All I wanted was for him to hold me, but he couldn’t do that.  I just felt completely defeated and adrift.  When he asked me about the therapy appointment later, I had already taken my trazodone and was half asleep and really not in the mood to talk to him, especially when there was a disconnect between us.  Plus, I had posted a facebook update that was lyrics to a song by Adam Lambert (title of which is my blog post title hehe).  I had intended it for him to let him know that he just had to patient with me, that I was trying to get things together:  There might have been a time when I would let you slip away. I wouldn’t even try but I think you could save my life. Just don’t give up – I’m workin’ it out.  He saw it and the one thing he took from it was that there was a time when I would have left him.  Um, read the whole friggin’ thing.  I just told him that it was lyrics from a song, and then he seemed fine with that.  Ugh.

Anyway, maybe there was more, but this post is REEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLY long, and my butt hurts, and I want some more tea, so there.

A Little Med Tweaking…

So that whole update I was going to do, well it won’t happen tonight because the pdoc increased my trazodone, and I’m about to go into zombieland  after a very long day.  Throw things at me if you want, because I’ll be passed out and won’t know. 

Stay Tuned

I will update tomorrow night, but it’s really difficult to do when the kids are here.  Don’t think I’m ignoring anyone, unless you are that big-headed driver who wouldn’t let me merge.  Then yes, I am ignoring you.