Fuck

Fuck.

The only thing that is stopping a big shut down is writing.

And the caffeine I had earlier.  But I’m already paying for that.  The jawline and ear are starting to hurt.

But, hell, I did an overnight shift, and couldn’t sleep before my therapy appointment, so caffeine is about the only thing keeping me upright.

That and my mind won’t shut up with the desparate scrabblings, trying to figure things out, give things meaning, find some bullshit purchase for me to have some sort of balance right now.

Its been a fucked up week.

I have had to cancel my week retreat at Breitenbush, because they’re doing construction and cutting down trees that week.  And considering how other things have turned out for shit recently, I decided not to risk the big purchase.  Which has just destroyed me.

I love my husband.  I love my mother.  I hope they know that.  I know they know how difficult it is to be around me right now- how tense I am making everything in our small two bedroom apartment.  All I want is solitude, a place to figure things out where I’m not focusing on how I’m upsetting another person, or ruining their day, or ruining mine by trying to be affable, amenable, and all the other high falutin ‘being nice’ words.

It was a chance for me to get away, and let go of my stressed out building agoraphobia.  How every time I get somewhat emotional, I find myself going immediately numb, because someone is around, and I don’t want to upset them or draw attention to myself.  So, needless to say, I had a lot of expectation built up already on this trip.

And, no go.  This meant I had to cancel with Breitenbush, and reverse all of the vacation time I had off at work, which prompted so many “well, why don’t you…”  Because.  Any other place will be full of people.  And although Breitenbush is not an all-alone experience, they understand.  And I would have a few solid days of not having to worry about settiling in or leaving.

I also had to order all of my medical cards and my employee card again, because, well, lost my wallet.  At my therapist.  Monday was a fucked up day of this- of dealing with the fallout, and hiding any true feelings until I got off work and went to my therapists office, where I was so fucking done, I could barely speak.  Just… reached my limit.  How much else could go fucking wrong?

So, on to insane few days at work, overnight shift last night, which I couldn’t get any sleep before hand, because my mind is buzzing with all of this desperate what can I hold on to crap.  Got back from the shift, exhausted, maybe got two hours sleep, and mind started in again.  That’s OK.  Therapy.  Get caffeine, you’ll be able to at least talk, maybe come to some sort of balance.  You need this.  It’s a good thing that the days were set up the way they were this week.

Forty five minutes before the appointment, waiting for the bus, phone call.

Therapist is cancelling because he is sick.

Let me start by saying I know he doesn’t read this, and I’m not so narcissistic to go on and on about how dare he and shit like that.

But when the shit falls, it sometimes drops in inconvenient places, and unless you deal with it, it festers.

Shell shocked.  A really, really bad week has just gotten worse, and the only thing I could figure out to do was write.

The worst part of it was the last thing he said:

“Thanks for your understanding.”  He meant it, too. 

Not just some…

look, I like my therapist.  I am, at my best, wildly untrusting of anyone I am paying for treatment, and I have been able to get a certain amount of intimacy, which scares me, making all of the selfish little codependent boy alarms go off in my head.  So the shell shock and the fury over the situation devolved into get-over-it-if-you-have-this-much-feeling-about-it-its-unhealthy-you-should-cut-back-sessions-besides-its-probably-all-your-fault-anyway-scaring-him-with-how-unresponsive-you-were.

If there are two things that I am a pro at, they are being reliable, and being understanding.  The smiling little people pleaser comes out, and says “whatever you say.  I’m there.  I get it.  Oh, definitely.  You mean more than me.  So, whatever you need.”

Home now.  Alone at the moment.  Don’t want to deal with anyone else all night, or every night until next Monday.  Just want to crawl into bed until… fuck.