Time For A Break

I need to get out of here.

My time here with my husband's aunt has quickly morphed into a miserable time. Respect and mutual liking I used to have for her? Gone. Replaced with red-hot rage and hatred. I hate her. I've never met such a miserable person. She's got a mean-streak a mile wide, and I just can't understand it. I've never had a mean-streak. I don't like to hurt people, therefore I avoid doing it. Doesn't she know whats it's like to be hurt? She says she does. Knowing how bad it hurts, how could she inflect that pain on another person? I can't wrap my head around it. I handle myself with class, and a lot of times bite my tongue instead of saying the evil things that are going on in my head.

Aunt told us today that we are to be gone for Labor Day Weekend. Go stay with Husband's mom. My heart dropped to my stomach, and I think I actually tasted bile in my mouth, I was so angry. So angry. Be gone for Labor Day Weekend, so she and her husband can leave the house all day long, flitting from mall to movie to restaurant, while I suffer insomnia, allergies, and panic attacks by staying in the dark, smoke-filled pit that is my mother-in-law's house? I hate her. I would never be able to tell someone to go live in somewhere as awful as that, when I could help them myself. I could never live with myself knowing I caused that person so much pain and distress.

Learning about Labor Day Weekend ruined my day. My week. I've been down the whole day since I found out, at about 11 am this morning. There is one good thing I've got to look forward to. My husband found out he gets about a month off from work, so we are packing up the dogs and going to my parent's for a month. I can't wait. I can't wait to be somewhere where I feel welcome, loved, and wanted. Somewhere with absolutely no drama. With people who are warm, and deep in their hearts are good people. I am so happy I will be getting away from here, and away from Aunt. Of course, when we return from my parent's, we have to move in with my husband's mom until the house is done. We won't be back from our trip until the end of October, so I am hoping against all hope that the house is done by then. When the house is done, I'm going to be hard pressed to associate myself with Aunt. Being nice to her is going to be hard work.

I've noticed lately that I'm not making any progress on my issues. I haven't recovered any new flashbacks, and it's almost like I've completely stopped thinking about it. My obsession with getting better and figuring out what happened to me has been replaced by my all-consuming hatred for Aunt. This is not good for a couple of reasons. One, I really thought I was moving forward. All I wanted to was figure out what happened, piece everything back together, find a way to accept it, and move on. All progress has halted. I hate that, because I feel like my mind is simply putting off the inevitable. Once I no longer have Aunt to fixate on, then what? It starts all over again? Two, this hatred I feel is not normal or healthy. It makes me stressed. I constantly feel in a state of duress. I'm not the type of person who judges everyone, is jealous of them, and therefore talks crap and looks down on them. That is not me. But I don't deal with people like Aunt. Ever. My life is normally pretty laid-back and easy-going. Like I normally am. I wish I could just go to sleep, and wake up on the day when it's time to leave for my parent's. Fast-forward through this awful period of time right now.

Of course, that's not going to happen. I've got about a month that I've got to keep it together. We are leaving on September 27. I have to just try as hard as I can not to have a meltdown during this time period. Easier said than done.

Weekend In Hell

*********There is some pretty frank language in this entry. Do not read if you are so dainty as to not want to read some cursing. I warned you.******************



It was a really shitty weekend.

I mean, really shitty. The husband's aunt asked us to go and stay with my husband's mother from Friday-Sunday. I say ask, but I really mean told. Here's what she said, "Uncle and I talked. You guys are to be out of the house this weekend. Go stay with Husband's Mom". Well, thanks, you crazy bitch. Supposedly, so her and the Uncle can have some alone time. Like that's going to happen, I thought in my head, wishing I could kill her with my thoughts alone.

I loathe staying at my husband's mother's home. Really, really loathe staying there. She lives in a single wide trailer that she never cleans. The house is filthy. An inch of dirt on everything. Cobwebs are in every corner. Bits of food and nicotine gum tossed on the floor, in corners. Not good when you have 2 little dogs that like play Hoover vacuums all around the house. Trash lid soiled with old food. A fridge also soiled with old food, inside and out. Dead flies and heavy dust on the windowsills. The bathroom, oh, the bathroom. I shutter to think about it. She doesn't keep any food in the house, so we ate fast food all weekend. McDonald's, Little Caesar's, Subway, Arby's. My stomach hurt so bad by the time it was time to leave. Her house is in an apparent dead zone. She doesn't have Internet, and I couldn't get service on my phone, let alone 4G Internet service. She watches TV 24 hours a day, so we just sat there for 4 damn days, watching TV. The worst part of everything about staying with her? She smokes in the house. This is not light smoking either. We are talking a pack a day.

I get extremely agitated and anxious when I stay for too long at my mother-in-law's house. I also get a severely stuffed up, snotty nose. I always thought it was the filth that bothered me about her house, but after being forced to spend 4 days there this weekend, I realized why. My grandma used to smoke in her house. My mother-in-law's house smells exactly like my grandma's house from when I was a child.

My husband was working night's this weekend, so I slept alone at my MIL's house. I slept every night for exactly 4 hours, and woke up to the smell of smoke. My MIL is bipolar, and her behavior is extremely erratic. She is just starting on her manic phase right now, so she is not sleeping at night. She sits in her living room, and chain smokes. There is a hefty crack between the floor and the door of the room that I was sleeping in, so I woke up every night, smelling cigarette smoke. And every night, I had a trembling panic attack. I had them during the day too, don't get me wrong, but the night ones were the worst. I cried every night. Cried until I was exhausted and somehow, managed to fall back asleep for an hour.

My husband has asked his mother not to smoke inside when we are there, but she doesn't listen and/or care during her manic phases. She'll not smoke when he's there, or when I'm awake, but as soon as she thinks I'm asleep, BAM! She pulls out that pack so fast, and lights them up for a couple of hours. Maybe she thinks I don't know, but for god's sake woman, you live in a single wide trailer. You ain't hiding shit from anyone.

The husband's stupid fucking aunt called my MIL constantly all weekend. On Friday, her and Uncle left the house. All day. All damn day. So we had to go stay in a dark, dirty, moldy hole so you could go shopping, out for drinks, to a movie, more shopping, and out to dinner? Thanks, you fucking cunt. On Saturday, Uncle left to play cornhole. On Sunday, Uncle left to play cornhole. Are you fucking serious? Are you fucking serious? I saw red most of the weekend, so consumed in my hatred of Aunt was I. I'm still pretty pissed. If I could find a way to do it, I would take my damn dogs and go stay with my parents until the fucking house was done. But they live 2700 miles away, and one person cannot fly with 2 dogs, damnit.

The husband and I just got back today. I'm pasting a big, fat, fake smile on my fucking face and acting like everything is just peachy-fucking king. Aunt had the nerve to say to me when I got home, "Thanks so much for leaving for the weekend! We just had the best time!".

Fucking whore.

Weathering A Storm

I've had a rough week. Over the weekend, I had 2 panic attacks of a pretty size-able scale. I've been muddling through this week, because after the weekend I've felt drained, apathetic, and down. I'm trying to do all my normal stuff to recover from the aftermath, but it's always slow going after these ordeals.

It should have been a fun and relaxing weekend. My husband and I went to visit his cousin and his wife at their lake house in a neighboring state. It was a long drive through a mountain range, where we ran into some rough weather. The last hour of our trip had us driving through a severe thunderstorm. The rain was pounding down so hard, I couldn't see through the windshield. My husband (along with everyone else on the interstate) flipped his emergency lights on and slowed to a crawl. I don't handle bad driving conditions very well, even though I'm always the passenger. But I still managed to hold myself together by holding on for dear life to my seat.

Already the weekend was off to a rocky start. But, the weather cleared up about 5 miles from our destination and when we arrived, we both settled in with some drinks. We'd been there for about an hour when my husband's cousin got itchy to take his boat out. I was apprehensive. It was late in the day, and there still looked like more storms coming in. But the cousin was adamant. So off we all go, in the boat. Sure enough, we'd been out on the water for 3 hours when a nasty, threatening black cloud appeared over the lake. The husband's cousin had started heading for shore, but we hadn't even made it yet when the downpour started. That's all I remember.

My husband said I had begun shaking violently when the rain started, and that I passed out. Good thing too, because the husband's cousin drove all the way back to the lake house with everyone still in the back of the boat. Through a thunderstorm. With lightening. Smart kid, that one. The next thing I remember, was being in the guest room, changing out of my soaking wet clothes. And I was tired as hell. And not a bit drunk, so I didn't pass out from excess of alcohol. When I went to sleep that night, I didn't wake up until morning. Unusual for me.

I felt like I was underwater the next morning. Foggy, unclear, and slow. But, it was a sunny day so everyone dressed for a day on the boat. I told myself it would be ok, I would just lay in the back of the boat and sunbathe. No big deal. We hadn't been out on the lake very long when the beer started flowing. The beer didn't stop flowing for 8 hours. I was drunk as a skunk by late afternoon. I made a questionable decision when I decided to jump off a 25-foot drop with everyone else. Not something I probably would have felt the need to do sober. I just remember standing at the edge of that drop-off and not caring. Not caring one bit as I stepped off and free-fell. I had a life-jacket on, so I guess it makes this dumb-ass decision a smidge more safe. Everyone decided to head back to the house shortly after everyone jumped off the rocks.

I played it safe (for once) and didn't drink anything, but water the rest of the night. One of my better decisions that weekend. After a long day of drinking and sun, everyone was in bed early. I was laying in bed with my husband, and my mind was going to overdrive. My husband's aunt and uncle (who we are living with currently) were watching our dogs for us, and I began to have the persistent thought that something bad could and/or would happen while we were gone. I thought about how I would feel if one of them were hit by a car, or snatched by a coyote. How I would never forgive the husband's aunt or uncle, and how I would buy a one-way ticket home and stay with my parents, until the house was built. How it would take a toll on my marriage, and how my husband would feel. But mostly, how overwhelming my hatred would be if something were to happen. I lost control in that moment, and I couldn't control the anxiety. It was too much to bear. I began shaking really. Again. This panic attack lasted for about 15 minutes, time of which I alternately felt like I was having a heart attack and that I just couldn't breathe. I think I finally wore myself out, and that's how I calmed down. I was just plain scared.

Needless to say, I was even more exhausted the next day than I was the day before. We headed for home that day, and arrived back at the house with not a hair out of place on either dog. It's now Thursday, and I feel like I'm still recovering from the weekend. I've stayed home this week, completed my workouts, ate healthy, avoided alcohol, and in general tried to stay calm. I've been experiencing mild, intermittent anxiety this week, but I'm hoping I'll start to feel better. One of these days.

What Would They Think?

************Trigger Warning**************

This is triggering for me, it may be triggering for you.

Early this morning, around 4 pm, my husband got up because he couldn't sleep. He went into the den to watch TV. I went back to sleep, and woke up around 5:30 because I knew it was about the time he went to work. I got up, and went into the den to get him. He was watching the news, about a mass shooting in Colorado at the screening of the new Batman movie.

My husband went to work, and I went back to bed. It took me quite awhile to fall back asleep, however. I couldn't stop thinking about how disgusting the human race is.

Events where masses of innocent people die are a trigger for me. The morning of the massive earthquake in Japan, I cried and sobbed helplessly for hours. I remember when the shooting happened at Columbine in high school, and the shooting at Virginia Tech. September 11th. I don't know why I continue to watch the news when it upsets me so gravely. I'm depressed about the state of the world and humanity for a week after something like this happens.

I read the story on this latest shooting when I got out of bed this morning. I read how the gunman walked up the aisles, seemingly picking people at random. Children were shot in the face. People trampled each other to get out the theater. People saw other people die right in front of them. The panic and anxiety take hold when I read details like this. Pain wells in my chest and my throat. Tears are uncontrollable. I can't even imagine aiming a gun at a helpless child, and killing them. How can anyone do this? One mother said she didn't even think twice about letting her kids go to a mid-night movie, because before today, who would even think something like this could happen? At the movies. Where a lot of people just went to relax and have fun. Where families were. Where children were. Where babies were.

My beliefs and opinions are my own. I'm not going to berate or belittle anyone for their opinions, nor would I try to change them. I expect the same from everyone else. But, immediately I thought of a piece I saw on the "Today" show yesterday. A doctor had a near-death experience, and said she saw heaven, Jesus, and angels. And they sent her back to continue living her life. Really? Really? How can anyone think that, and then look at this awful event in Colorado and justify to themselves that God is everywhere? Really? God let some monster walk down an aisle, pick a 3-month old baby, and shoot them? He let him shoot a 9-year old girl in the cheek? He let people get trampled in a flood of panic and adrenaline? He let children die slowly, bleeding out onto the floor because some psycho kid got bullied in school? Please. I don't understand how anyone can have unshakeable faith. I think mine was shattered when I was a child, and has only crumbled away as I've aged. By now, there is nothing left. I overheard my husband's aunt on the phone yesterday while she was watching this "miraculous" near-death experience on the "Today" show. She was talking to my mother-in-law (her sister), and telling her that me and my husband don't believe in stuff like this, and it's such a shame. How can we not when we see "powerful" evidence like this? Ha.

If anyone could step outside of the human race, and look at as a whole, would they think? I think they would be repulsed. Humans are an angry, violent, cruel species. When people can shoot 60 innocent people, when people can kill others because they think their religion is right and yours is wrong, when people can crash planes into buildings just to destroy life, how can that be right? 1% of the population lives like kings, while billions of people are sick, poverty-stricken, homeless, abused, and forgotten. It makes me sick to my stomach. It makes me panic. It gives me anxiety. It's days like today when I rock myself and tell myself hundreds of times, "You are only one person". I am only one person. I can't save everyone. I can't save every animal. I honestly am better off sticking my head in the sand, like an ostrich, and being ignorant. Because when I see stuff like what I've seen today, my heart breaks. It hurts in my chest. I can't stand to look at or talk to another human being. I can only cradle my dogs to my chest, and cry.

I will step off my soapbox now and again, I must express that my opinions are mine and mine alone. If you believe something different, that's fine with me. But on days like today, I can only cry that we (humans) are being allowed to continue to evolve. Because, honestly, what's next?

The Aftermath of a Panic Attack

Well, I meant to write a week ago. To talk about the conversation I had with my dad last week. An emotional conversation with my dad, unplanned errands, and a panic attack pretty much changed the course of my week. I seem to get a hangover effect when I have a panic attack. I have little energy and am, in general, just depressed for  a couple of days after a panic attack.

My panic attack was triggered by an impromptu visit to my sister-in-law's house. I'm normally triggered by her daughter, my niece, at her house but this time, she had something that triggers me far beyond children. Animals.

I don't know why I'm so triggered by animals, but I'm so badly triggered by animals, I can be sick for a week after a panic attack regarding an animal. My trigger is animals that seem to me to be in pain, abused, or mistreated. My sister-in-law got a new cat. Not a cat, a teeny, tiny kitten. The weather has been rotten here, we are in the middle of a heat wave. It must have been 100 degrees that day. My husband and I were walking to his sister's door when I noticed this tiny kitten huddled up against the house.

I knelt down, I couldn't stop myself. I put my hand out to let the kitten sniff it. The kitten was so weak, it didn't move. I ran my hand over it's small body, it was so hot. I looked around for a water bowl. There was none. My blood began to boil. I went inside and immediately got the tiny animal a bowl of ice water. I took it out to the kitten and began to rub some cold water into it's fur. It was able to get up then, and drink a voracious amount of water. I petted the poor kid some more, I could feel it's bones under it's fur. I was fuming. I looked around again, there was no food for this tiny cat. How could they be keeping this tiny, tiny animal outside? In the heat? Without food and water? I picked up the poor kitty, and held it to my chest. It began to purr like crazy, and I felt a sob rise in my chest. I went in and got the poor thing some food, and brought it out to him/her. The kitten ate a ton of food.

By this time, I was seeing red. My husband had come out of the house, it was time to go.  I felt tremendous amount of guilt leaving the animal there. I knew I couldn't take it with me, but it took everything I had to leave it there. I felt such hatred for my husband's sister in that moment, I couldn't even look at her.

As soon as we were in the car, driving down the street, the attack came. I could feel the panic rising in my chest, and my heart began to beat fast. Then faster. I began having trouble breathing. I was almost dizzy, and I felt so claustrophobic. The thought crossed my mind to jump out of the moving vehicle, just to try and make it stop. My mother-in-law was in the car with us, and I just tried to calm my breathing down. She was trying to talk to me, but I just ignored her and concentrated on my breathing. My husband knew something was wrong, and picked up the conversational slack.

It lasted about 20 minutes. And then I was drained. I told myself to think about something else, anything else. The next day was bad too. I felt hopeless, tired, and my whole body was sore from tensing up during the attack. Nothing much changed for the next couple of days. I'm finally starting to feel better now. I think.

I found out 2 days ago that the kitten had passed away. It was hit by a car in front of my sister-in-law's house. I have mixed feelings on this. Extreme sadness for such a short, innocent life. A little bit of relief because I don't have to watch this animal continue to suffer. I also feel a little bit of reality, because the reality of life is that I can't save every animal being abused. This is a hard fact for me to accept, and this thought destroys me a majority of the time.

I don't know why I'm this way. I've always had a special place in my heart for animals, I like them more than people. I can't stand to see an animal, innocent and defenseless, being abused by ignorant humans who seem to like to cause pain and devastation. I hate people for this reason. I hate my sister-in-law for letting this happen under her roof.

Anyhoo, the point of all this is that I didn't get around to the post I wanted to write. I was too depressed to open my computer, and move my fingers. I'm sitting here, wondering why I'm so different from other people, that something like seeing that kitten, could send me into a depressed state for days? It sounds so stupid, there are so many bigger problems in the world, but this... this gets me.

I'm hoping to write tomorrow, because I really did have a productive discussion with my dad that I wanted to talk about. Fingers crossed.

8 More Days

It will be 8 more days before my first official psychiatrist appointment. I'm feeling bittersweet over this. Happy because I feel like I'm drowning here, but slightly saddened that I'm so obviously not normal. Normal people don't have sick, twisted thoughts like I do. Normal people don't have panic attacks. Normal people don't thoughtfully touch a knife, thinking about one little cut, and then using all their willpower not to. Normal people don't have weeks that they mope around the house, having crying jags, and thinking that absolutely everything is hopeless.

I don't know what a psychiatrist is going to do for me, I don't know how they can help me. A large part of me is screaming that I will always be broken, there isn't anything anyone can do. This part of me wants to cancel my appointment, and keep what's happened to me a secret. I dread sharing anything about myself with anyone. I don't know how I'm going to find the words to say to a doctor what has happened to me. I can't even accept what has happened to me, how can I tell someone else what is only a suspicion in my mind? I can picture myself opening my mouth, closing it because I can't say what I want to say, and my cheeks turning very, very red. Even when I talk to my husband about this, I have a hard time saying it out loud. If I do manage to get the words out of my mouth, a wave of sickening feeling washes over me. Dread. I've always been this way, and I will always be this way. But there is a small part of me that is holding out hope. Hope that the emptiness inside of me could go away.

I've been feeling especially low for a couple of days while living with the husband's aunt.  She makes us feel like children. Before she left for work today, she told my husband to take a shower if he works in the yard because she doesn't want him sitting dirty on her furniture. Umm, we are adults here. Last night, I got lectured for a good 10 minutes on how to properly clean a crock pot. This does not serve well for my self-esteem. Back when I was working (it's been about one and a half years since I quit working) I was a perfectionist. I hated being corrected at work, my supervisor could tell me something once, and I would always remember. I would go out of my way to make sure all my work was far and away the best, and then wait around like a lost puppy for my praise. When the aunt is lecturing me, she is beating the thought into me that I'm not perfect. That I'm a burden to her. That I'm worthless. That she can't wait to get me out of here.

Realistically, I don't think she actually thinks those things about me. But, that's how she makes me feel. I've already noticed that I feel pretty relaxed during the day when she is at work, and then completely anxious while she is home. I'm afraid to make a step, any step, for fear it's the wrong one. I'm guessing this is not the most healthy situation for me to be living in. Everyday, I just hope the home is done soon and I can get back to my environment. It's such a toss up for me, because I'm anxious here, but I'm also anxious at my mother-in-law's house. There's nowhere we can stay that I won't be anxious.

Argh! I'm feeling very frustrated today. It's going to be a long day.