It’s been a long time since I’ve done a Friday Confessions post, and it’s very much overdue.
I’m fucking terrified.
The wedding nightmares have begun. They’re stupid little things, but enough to get under my skin…
- My Bat Shit Crazy sister showing up and ruining everything.
- My Bat Shit Crazy sister showing up and convincing Finn to call it all off
- Being left at the alter
- Murphy’s Law (anything that can go wrong, WILL go wrong)
- Families not getting along
- Uninvited guests
- Kids being holy terrors, and the parents doing nothing about it
Sooo, yeah. Not only does wedding anxiety plague me during the day, it’s invading my dreams as well.
What a fucking weekend…
Plans canceled last minute, a surprise visit from my uncle, a random friend request from my XH…
I’d had plans with my father to take Z top an annual event I hadn’t been too since 2001. We’ve had these plans since March. To the point of rearranging Z’s visitation with his father so we could make it to said event…
He canceled last minute. And since Finn had to work, Z and I had no other way to make it there. Only to find out when I called my dad to let him know my uncle was pulling into my neighborhood he went to said event without me or Z. I was heartbroken. I haven’t let Z know.
The reason for my uncle’s visit? He left his wife. Some shit has been going on behind the scenes. The biggest one is that a paternity test proved that his 13 year old daughter isn’t his. On top of that, his wife of 20 years caused him too lose his SSI, takes their car to haul their neighbours to and from the store and appointments, causing him to miss his own appointments. Doctors, therapists, psychologists. We have a trifecta of abuse: medical neglect, emotional abuse, AND psychological abuse. My uncle is diagnosed bipolar, and she’s preventing him from getting his necessary medications for it.
While my uncle was here, I get a phone call from FMIL (future mother-in-law, Finn’s mom) to cancel the cookout we’d been invited to yesterday.
Why? Because they suddenly had to tear up their carpet to install hardwood floors. There wouldn’t be enough room for everyone. Oh, but of course, they wanted Finn there to help.
I. Lost. It. It felt as though Z and I were unwanted and unwelcome. As I’ve told Finn, little things add up. They constantly cancel last minute, or refuse to come to any event we have at our place.
Finn didn’t go yesterday. He tried calling both his mom & dad, but neither answered. He didn’t leave a message for either.
I had an emotional breakdown yesterday. After Saturday’s events, I told Finn I was feeling unwanted and rejected by both sets of parents. I was already emotionally on edge, so it caused an argument. He said I was making a mountain out of a mole hill. I told him little things add up.
I was trying to calm myself, so I started playing with my hair. When I looked in the mirror, I saw my mom’s face. I look just like my mom. I’ve already been missing her and thinking of her daily, so add in the extra emotional stuff from Saturday, plus the anniversary of her passing coming up quick, and it was just a disaster waiting to happen.
(This is going to be a huge vent fest, probably full of foul language. You have been warned)
Fuck you, anxiety! Fuck you, depression! And fuck you PTSD!
Yeah… I’m not handling the depression as well as I should be, or as well as I have in the past. My anxiety has me on fucking edge. At the worst possible fucking time. Between The Bitch due to show tomorrow, and having minimal time with Finn, due to necessary home repairs, I’m questioning everything.
Every. Fucking. Thing.
Why’s he pulling away from me?
Does he still love me?
Did he ever love me?
Is he breaking up with me?
So yeah, it’s pretty fucking loud in my head right now. I’m an emotional fucking basketcase, struggling to make it through this depression.
Even fucking worse? I have myself convinced that he doesn’t want to hear it, so I’m bottling A LOT of this up, only telling him bits and pieces.
The logical part of me knows it’s the anxiety and depression talking, so there’s that.
Here I am, sitting on the couch across from him, and he has no clue how bad things in my head really are right now. While I keep looking at him out of the corner of my eye, wondering why in the fuck I even deserve this amazing creature to love me enough to deal with my brand of crazy.
God, I love that man but he deserves so much better than an emotionally damaged basket case.
I’m sooo fucking happy there’s less than 12 hours left of this year.
It’s been one struggle after another, after another.
My anxiety/depression has been horrible the past few weeks. When I was dealing with an ear infection (that the doctor described as severe), that I was to hardheaded to see a doctor about for two weeks, I was pretty much nonfunctional. I had to force myself to do anything but hug a mug of hot tea and the heater. I got really behind on housework, and I’m still in catch up mode. The mess effects my anxiety/depression which in turn makes me not want to deal with it. At all.
I need to pull my head outta my ass (my father’s phrasing), and get on it. But I need help. The last time I went into a cleaning spree, I had the living room done. And two days later, Finn had his force field back up. Yeah… It’s frustrating.
Today… Today, I’m an emotional basket case, and I just wanna talk to Finn about it, but currently can’t, because he and his father are working on some home improvement stuff that’s been planned for a week. There’s nothing I can really do to help them, other than to stay out of their way, which leaves me feeling pretty damn worthless/useless. I wanna go curl up in a ball, but again that’ll just make me feel worse.
December has been Murphy’s Law around this place. All sorts of plumbing problems. From backups, to frozen pipes that burst. It’s been a rough month, to end a rough year.
No, I haven’t had one, but I’m putting this out there to show what it’s like for someone on the inside. It’s not the same for everyone. This is what it’s like for ME.
Think back to the most scared you’ve ever been. Like, life threatening situation scared.
Your heart races. Your breath is shallow and quick, to the point you feel like you’re going to pass out. Your hands tremble. You can barely speak, your voice is so shaky.
That’s what it feels like for me. It’s terrifying to go through. If I’m lucky, the attack lasts less than five minutes. But, I can still be jittery and scared for hours afterwards. Sometimes, even until the next day.
During the attack, and until I’ve fully recovered, I need to feel safe. That’s my only thought: safety.
Currently, “safety” to me, means one of two things: I have to be within touching distance of Scott (arm’s length), or in my bedroom. Safety. Otherwise, I feel exposed and vulnerable. Not safe.
I have good days and bad days.