rearranged: (Dean: Fingergun BANG!)
New meds + me = rough couple months. I'll be glad to push through this slump. Thankful for counseling, there are a few things I want to discuss, like how the hell to keep from crying every time I deal with a stressful situation. Or how to keep from sliding back into the pit that is rock bottom. Or how to prevent the inevitable explosion that will be directed at a complete stranger that pushes the wrong button.

Last night I wrote Tyler and said this: After the year I've had, I dare someone to fuck with me. I'm not sure if I told you about the dream where a guy in a waiting room had a 6 ft chainsaw and started holding it up and joking around about being a psycho, and I flipped the fuck out and started beating him with my purse? That's how I feel right now. I'm just waiting for some poor motherfucker to give me a reason to explode, and then I'm going to jail.

I was still angry. We picked up the Subaru, there are a few things that upset me*, I hashed it out with the representative WHO ACTUALLY PICKED UP THE PHONE, probably to her chagrin when she realized it was me, AND THEN... we went to turn in the rental car. That should have been the moment when I was granted closure. Hand keys over, get deposit, sulk about my car but get over it because sulking isn't going to do anyone any good. And not look at every single silver Ford Escape I pass, because if I happen to spot the vehicle, I might Hulk out.

After she inspected the car we went inside and she started typing. Hmmmed. Made a weird face. Said she'd have to call the insurance adjuster in the morning, oh, what was his name? Something something? And get it fixed because insurance only preauthorized x amount, the bill was $50 more than that with tax, and it showed that I owed the balanced (in addition to keeping the deposit). I appreciate how she tried to handle it as nicely as possible, considering my face was red and puffy from crying when talking to the insurance rep.

I looked at my phone. The insurance rep's phone goes straight to voicemail at 5:30. It was 5:32.

Needless to say, I bought a coffee, asked him to drive home via the back road, turned the music up, and rolled my window down after round two of crying was complete (despite the supercold weather, if it keeps this up we will have snow on the ground by Halloween. Again).

In bed I cried on David's shoulder and asked him if it was me, or if I had justification in my anger. He hugged me and said he was mad, too, it wasn't just me. What he didn't say was that his walls are his withdrawn emotions, his angry expression and flat tone, but my walls are surrounded by a goddamned moat of my tears.

Sometimes I don't catch myself falling until it's too late, but I feel like I'm watching this crash in slow motion. I see the signs, I know where this leads, I know I need to discuss upping my medication with my psychiatrist.

* things that Progressive has been very proactive protecting in the past, when other insurance companies are at the end of their pointing finger. But when there is no insurance company to take the blame because the driver fled, they are reluctant to put out any money and their customer service vanishes.

I'm behind on everything. I'm going to distract Jack with a pile of toys in the floor, write, and sew when I need a break from writing. I'm taking the day off from life and taking care of my frustration the good old fashioned way, yay creative outlets!

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