Maths Impaired

I am a liberal arts girl. BA in English, BA in Communications and (almost) MA in Social Work.
Ignoring the fact that I did take college Algebra and Calculus... I have never been good a the math.

BUT EVEN I CAN COUNT.

On December 2nd the lawyer said three to five business days. Three would be Friday the 5th, five would be Tuesday the 9th... today is Thursday the 11th and you know what they said today??? The 16th.

I don't care how you manipulate the numbers. I con't care how many advanced math degrees you have and how many theories you explain to me... five business days from 12/2 is never ever ever going to be 12/16. I don't care if it's a leap year and the moon has turned to blood and you chant naked in a circle in my back yard while you sacrifice a pure white chicken.

Sally said that lawyers are also not known for their math skills and maybe this one has suffered some kind of accident that makes it impossible for him to use his fingers and toes.

In knitting news... I have been working on Mr. Greenjeans using Dream in Color Classy. I'm down to the cable part. I'm "supposed" to be working on Ernie, or finishing the Clapotis, or either of the two projects on the needles for That Bad Bad Man... but there is something about this pink, sproingy yarn that is ever so distracting. And it's so FAST! I cast on for this sucker on Saturday (which would be 5 days ago)...
I think.

Patient patient

I am trying to be patient.
I really am.
But last Tuesday that stupid lawyer said three to five business days, and as this is Wednesday... so that is six business days.
Six.

I am having a difficult time refraining from calling their office and screaming "Gimme gimme gimme" into the phone.

And breathe.

Also I have a toothache. I have never had one of those before. It's really distracting and terrible. I called to make an appointment with my dentist and apparently I haven't been in for more than two years. Now, I am obsessive about my teeth and I brush them at least twice a day and at this point I've never had a cavity, but this is not the longest time between visits.

Until now it hasn't been a problem, but this ache is more than uncomfortable. It's entirely possible that I am grinding my teeth at night more on one side than the other. And it's entirely possible that the grinding is the source of the discomfort... but something tells me it's more involved than that.

So Tuesday will be a glorious day of medical procedures and testing... as I have a Dr's appointment in the morning as well. I hate medical testing... it's not bad enough that you have to get poked and prodded and have things extracted from you... but then you have to wait a hundred years for answers. I have a feeling that by the end of the afternoon I'm going to be in my pajamas under a quilt whimpering and eating jello. Strawberry jello with banana slices in it. And ibuprofen. And Xanax. Or bourbon.

New Buddy

I got up at 5:30 this morning.
I know.

I had to go to Ft. Riley with J for outreach. J is a nice enough guy, but we have occasionally had some weirdness... so I was a little worried about this trip. 4 hours in the car with someone is a LOT.

We had a blast. He's sarcastic and smart and funny and totally impatient with other drivers. Just my kind of travel buddy.

The snow started about the time we got there and by the time we left everything was slick. We saw 4 accidents before we even got of the base!!

Visibility was pretty low for most of it and Mr. Combat Vet drives like he's in a convoy in the desert. I was not exactly scared or anything, I mean, we were in a government vehicle and I wasn't driving, but I am super glad to be back in town and behind my desk where I belong.

And seriously? The thing that we had to drive all the way up there to do? Took like, 20 minutes.
Your tax dollars at work.

But we had a good time, and so far that's been the highlight of my week. I know it's only Tuesday and it's possible that things will get better... but yesterday was particularly bad, and Sunday wasn't my favorite either.
I did go to the doctor yesterday and she gave me a Z-pack for my sinus infection and also something to halt production in the snot factory so I am feeling TONS better than I did all last week.

I think it's the time of year. I think that this year the holiday blues started late but is making up for lost time. I feel shakey and anxious and just BAD. Every little thing is making me cry and my first reaction to just about everything is to either hide under the covers with the kitties or to throw out the attitude and just say "fuck it."

J and I were talking about that today too... that impulse to just say "fuck it" when things get complicated. I do think it's sort of liberating, but it is as much of a defense mechanism as hiding under the blankets with the kitties. It is just as harmful in the long run. He's one of those guys who can handle a relationship until things get emotionally sticky and then he disappears (what's that like?) until things calm down. I said, "Oh so you're a big coward?" He laughed and said, "No I just don't want all of the drama and bullshit." I said, "If you weren't such a fucking coward there would be less drama and bullshit. And also? Stop dating girls younger than you. All they want is a baby daddy." He said he was shocked that neither of my marriages worked out. I said army or no army I could kick his ass any day.

So now we're really buddies.

He lives out in the middle of nowhere because when the government collapses he wants to be prepared... yup, one of those. But the idea that the government might collapse and society might go feral is sort of like the idea of a judgmental God who will reign fire and brimstone over my head because I believe that abortion should be legal and accessible. Which is to say, I don't really believe in it, but I am a little scared of it. So I asked what a girl had to do to be invited into the compound when the world falls apart. He said, "What can you bring?"
So I gave my standard answer.
Xanax and snacks.

I'm totally in.

Where's my Sign?

I noticed that The Yarn Harlot is also battling the holiday blues and has had somewhat of an emotionally stressful year too. I wish that none of us had to deal with it, but it does make me feel a bit better to know that it's not just me. Also it sort of blows my mind when people who seem so "together" have issues like that. In the same way, when people mention how "well" I am handling things this year I think, "Well, you're not there when I am crying so hard I throw up are you?"

I will admit that I no longer wish I could wear a sign that reads, "I'm not really like this, my husband died," as a disclaimer, but most of the time I feel like I am held together by the finest of threads.

It's been a rough couple of days.

Last night was bad... no real sleeping, partially due to this stupid cold. Stuffy, runny, sneezy nose does not let you rest and even NyQuil wasn't cutting it.

And my head is rolling something around. I'm not entirely sure what it is.
Isn't that funny? I'm fixated enough on something that I can't sleep, but my head hasn't let me in on the problem. I have an idea... based on the direction my dreams are heading and my reaction to a few seemingly harmless things, but until it processes through I don't really know what's wrong.

It's enough to make a girl crazy... oh, wait...

It doesn't take a genius to assume that it has something to do with my abandonment/trust/self-esteem issues. Everything, apparently, has to do with that. And my first line of defense lately is, "Fuck it." So if I seem agitated (read: awake) tread lightly and forgive me if I don't respond the way you thought I would.

OK. So I do still want a sign. I just want it to be something like, "Caution: Falling Rocks" or "Open Trench." "Slippery When Wet" is also a crowd pleaser... "Dangerous Curves Ahead," or maybe simply "Don't Feed the Bears."

Or, like one of my favorite bookstore employees, just "FUCK."

Better

Last night was lovely and relaxing - Bean and That Bad, Bad Man and I ate steaks and watched a movie called Fido... it cracked me up.

I went to bed late because after he left Bean and I had a long, long, long, long talk about Jeff/Bartleby and school and boys and bad, bad men and our future. She was upset because she is afraid that things will end badly and we'll all be hurt again. It's an understandable fear. I told her that trust was scary and that there is no way to know how things will turn out. I said that I hoped that she is learning that you can have your life turned upside down and your heart broken and still land on your feet. That what gets you through difficulty is a good support system. That even though it is scary, hope is vital.

And then I stole a line directly from my most favorite girl movie of all, Steel Magnolias. "I would rather have thirty minutes of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special."

We talked about whether we would go back in time and take Jeff out of our lives if we could. She decided that it was worth it to keep him despite the ending because the good times were so good. I said that I thought applied to other people and events as well.

There is no way to tell if That Bad, Bad Man is going to be around tomorrow or next month or ten years from now. Even if we both sustained head trauma and forgot how much we don't want to get married - marriage is no more of a guarantee than anything else. I think that you have to just take the time you have and make it the best that you can. I think that love and happiness are always worth the risk.

Life happens, things change. He might leave. Or I might. And that would hurt and there would be some unpleasantness... but life would still go on.

I told her that you have to assign your happiness to yourself.

I recognize her fears because they are also mine. Telling her things that are true and also comforting reminded me to be comforted too.

Anxiety and Repulsion

Soooooooo the meeting with the lawyer went well-ish. I signed the eleventy-billionth document and now we're just waiting for the title company to do their thing. It will take another week or so.

All pretty basic and run-of-the-mill stuff.

But being in that office for even a few minutes triggers real anxiety for me. I was there for less than 30 minutes but I left sweating and shaking. I thought I was going to throw up in the elevator, and I ended up having a large panic attack in my car.
And (for the first time in like, ten years) I had no Xanax on me. Not a one. Not even Advil with Xanax residue from being kept in the same bottle.
I couldn't drive, I couldn't breathe. I just kept thinking, "This is not what I wanted."

At this point I have structured my life so that I need this money. Working part time has allowed me to be a student and a mother and still have benefits without being away from the house more than 80 hours a week. It's a short-term solution that means I can finish this education that began when I was married and happy. Safe, I thought, in my ability to plan ahead. To make decisions about my future. Our future.

I still don't want it.

I'll take it. I have to. I have to take care of these financial issues that have been hanging for months. I have to be able to have a savings that will take care of emergencies. I have to be able to be stable if something (else) catastrophic should happen.

But I don't want to.

Do I want him back? No. Not even if I could have the first version of him back. I wish I had never married him, never allowed him to get that close.
I am happy with my life now. I am happy with the things I have accomplished and the people who love me and I wouldn't trade any of it... but I didn't want him to die like he did and I certainly didn't want to be compensated for it.

Legally that's not what it is.
Legally it's inheretace.
But it still feels like compensation. Pay off. Blood money.

Maybe it will feel better when it smells like cash. It's hard to be repulsed by cash.

Is it Spring Yet?!?

Oh, um, hi December! I wasn't expecting you so soon! Wow. I should really have paid more attention to the calendar.

I have talked to people who are actually done with their Christmas shopping. Could you just vomit holly? I have finished two knitting projects - and seeing as how I wasn't going to knit for anyone this year that's pretty amazing - but that's also the extent of my holiday preparation.

I'm also not winning any mental health awards for December, my insomnia is back and I can't go more than an hour without crying about something. (On a related note, my bedroom is rearranged and almost clean. Seriously. Just don't open the closet). I was expecting the usual holiday depression. It happens every year sometime after Halloween and runs through the middle of January... but this year it didn't really hit until Thanksgiving. I woke up Thursday morning and felt like I had been hit with the anxiety stick. I didn't want to leave the house.
But of course I had to. I had to make garlic dip and lots (and lots) of mashed potatoes.

So I did. Because I am a grown up.
Sort of.

I called Sally for a single-girl pep talk and then got dressed (big-girl panties, check!) and went to my parents' house.
My mom and I started the afternoon with a Xanax and I took a nap after we ate... then my potatoes and I went to Andie's.

It was a good time, don't get me wrong, but I was exhausted and sad and ready to sink into my bed by the end of the day. And I wanted to stay there for the rest of the weekend.
But I went to work on Friday and then Andie and Sally and I went to lunch and then on to Twist.

And it occurred to me that I may just be deluding myself into thinking I'm OK, when really? I rarely leave the house for anywhere but class and work without Andie and/or Sally. And Saturday when Sally left and I stayed on to knit some more, my anxiety levels were higher than they should be at Twist.
When I did finally leave I was so keyed up that I cried all the way home. I don't know why.

Last night I was crying because I have a holiday party to go to next week and I don't know what to wear to it. Or if I should take a date. Or if my date will be willing to go.

And today? Today I have an appointment with the lawyer again. More stuff to sign, still no check.
I feel very fragile and tired and jerked around.

I need to learn to trust my own judgment and instincts... but I feel so fuzzy and spun out most of the time that I am afraid that I am missing important decisive information.

So if I see you and you ask me how I'm doing and I start crying it's nothing personal. It's just December.