Just Like A Pill

Maybe I’ll start posting with song titles all the time….

I am ridiculously happy that it is so much closer to the weekend. How about the rest of you?

Aside from my son’s birthday, the rest of my week has been…eh, not so great. I was going to wait until the end of the week to blog again and sum everything up really briefly, but I am so on edge right now that I have to do something to relieve myself or I am going to explode on someone. If you don’t like bitchy posts you might as well ski-daddle now because Ima be bitchin’ up a storm over here 🙂 The magic of this whole thing is that by the time I’m done, I’ll feel relieved and hopefully be over it.

Here we go…

I don’t even remember Monday to be honest.

Tuesday was baby boy’s birthday so that was a great day. I made cupcakes for his class and took them to school for him. My daughter and I made it all the way to the school without dropping anything and wouldn’t you know we’d get all the way to the door and then drop a case of freshly made cupcakes? Luckily, none of them actually hit the ground. They just turned upside down into the top of the container I had them in. It sucked because it messed up the cute way I had them decorated (which I neglected to get a picture of, sadly) but I was so thankful they weren’t tainted with spit and bubble gum germs that I just flipped them back over and said my apologies to the teacher for their messy appearance once I got to the classroom.

It’s safe to say the kids thoroughly enjoyed those cupcakes, messy tops and all.

Wednesday, we had someone over to our apartment to check out the floors and assess any damage so that when we leave here we won’t have to pay a ton of money to get them fixed before we move out. I was on pins and needles the whole time while we were waiting for the guy to get there because we didn’t get a concrete time. Housing just said “someone will be there between 9 & 12” like it’s the cable company or some shit. So we waited until about 11:30 and I feel like I’m about to have a panic attack the whole time. Don’t ask me why – I know it’s not a big deal, but I felt extremely uncomfortable. I made sure the house was really clean, but I couldn’t shake this paranoid feeling that it just wouldn’t be clean enough. Talk about anxiety…

Anyway, when he finally did show up, it took him about 30 minutes to walk through the whole house, make notes or whatever and then talk to my husband. I couldn’t even stay in the same room. I actually walked outside on the balcony so I wouldn’t be able to hear what the guy said because I was so nervous for some completely stupid reason. Hubby had to open the balcony door to show the guy something out there and when I came back in, this dude was staring at me really crazy…probably because I was very obviously and very purposefully avoiding him, but whatever. I was already uncomfortable and that did nothing to help matters.

Hubby told me what he said afterwards and it was nothing bad. His only comment regarding cleanliness was “use a different mop because the one you use now gets too wet for the floor” hence a couple of places where we have some water damage. The dumbest things make me so on edge that I cannot relax to save my life. I know it doesn’t make sense and that most of the things I get worked up over don’t necessitate the level of anxiety I feel over them, but there it is.

I have these unrealistic expectations of myself to always be perfect and always do everything perfectly and of course, I NEVER do because who can live up to that, seriously? So, that makes me perpetually disappointed even though rationally, I know I’m being too hard on myself.

The rest of Wednesday I felt like I was walking on eggshells because hubby was in a bad mood. I will never understand why he comes home from work in pain and in a bad mood and then insists on doing something that we both know is going to put him in an even worse mood. Can anybody guess what that thing is?

Ding, ding, ding – you win a million imaginary dollars if you said “play Call of Duty!”

Note to soldiers with PTSD – no matter what your quack military therapist says (or at least my husbands quack military therapist), playing war games online when you’ve recently come out of a real-life high-intensity war zone in another country is NOT, in fact, HEALTHY! It doesn’t help you cope or de-stress – it just keeps you there in that same frame of mind and stresses your family the fuck out! After he plays this game, he’s pretty much Mr. CrabbyPants for at least an hour afterward. And when I say Mr. CrabbyPants – I mean like cussing random people out for no reason at all. Hell, he even cusses the streetlights out. I try to be patient because Lord knows the man is as patient and loving with me as he can be most of time, but I honestly don’t know how to help him deal with it when I can barely handle it myself.

Today, I got called by the school nurse (once again) over something that I was already well-aware of and to top it all off, I was treated like a child as she explained to me in painful detail what I needed to do about the situation. I was already doing everything she said and when I explained that to her, guess what she did? She kept talking anyway. She talked to me like I was a child who could understand only the simplest of English and it was like the icing on my craptacular week. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t received at least 50 calls from this woman over the course of the school year over things that were, the majority of the time, really really stupid. I know she’s just doing her job, but she’s called me so much that when she does now, I feel like it’s a personal attack on my parenting or something. I feel assaulted…or violated. It’s weird.

And that’s not even the best part. Hubs had to go to the hospital today. Apparently, his military doctors don’t know enough about anything to help him so he finally gets a long-overdue visit to a real hospital with real doctors. I hope they can do something to help him aside from filling him with a cocktail of drugs, but that’s all a lot of doctors seem to do these days.

You’re depressed? Oh okay, take this pill. It’ll help. I won’t give you any suggestions for how to feel better without medication because that means I’ll actually have to work with you and try to understand what you’re going through.

(Note to the touchy folk – I have no issues with depression medication. If it helps you to feel better, go for it. I just hate the way a lot of doctors approach it; as if drugs are your only option when really, there are a ton of other &/or supplemental alternatives.)

You have problems with anxiety? Here, take this! And don’t forget the alcohol!

You’re in pain? Well, I don’t know why and I’m not going to bother to find out, but take this pill. It should help. And if it doesn’t just come back and I’ll give you some more pills because that’s how I roll!

You’re addicted to pain pills? You drug-abuser! Why did you take so many!? Because I told you to? What?! What’d you listen to me for? I’m being sued for mal-practice…

You have PTSD? Okay, this is what we’re going to do. We’re going to talk about everything that is not related to that and I’m going to give you dumb advice while mostly talking about myself.

You get the picture. I’m very cynical today. Here’s to the hope that this helped me release some frustration and tomorrow will be a better day. If you read this far, I’m going to assume you either really love me and find me amusing or that you’re a glutton for punishment. Either way, thank you 🙂

Also, I entered the “Creative Everyday Challenge” so look for a post in the next few days on how I’ve been trying to accomplish that. It’ll be a lot more cheery than this one! 😛


3 thoughts on “Just Like A Pill

  1. You know, you totally reminded me of myself when our landlord came to inspect our place when we lived in Wisconsin. Especially cause I had spent about two freaking days cleaning EVERYTHING after I had just had a baby, literally days before. And the fact that someone was going to come over to potentially tell me that I didn’t clean well enough or I had damaged something, even though I knew I hadn’t, had me feeling tense and moody. I remember that he moved the stove and found some toy back there- that wasn’t even ours (stove was heavy, I didn’t really ever move it to clean back there) and he looked at me and said, “why do your kids play in the kitchen?”.. grrrrr.. see, things like that I don’t look forward to because then I get mouthy and it turns into a really bad situation, which it did! At least you didn’t go through that.

    I agree with you, I don’t think it’s healthy that your hubby plays Call of Duty when he has PTSD. My hubby has also been in real-life war and even though he didn’t get any kind of PTSD- he’s also a total fucking douche bag after he plays Black Ops. It drives me crazy and I always tell him before he plays, that he needs to chill the fuck out, because it’s not my fault that he loses on a freaking video game! He knows better than to take it out on me or the kids, cause I am not patient when it comes to that, so wow- I can only IMAGINE what you go through. Ugh men. They just don’t get it sometimes!

    • Ah yes! I’m so glad someone understands what I mean with the house thing. I’m thankful I didn’t have the experience you had – people can be so stupid sometimes. I have had something similar to that happen to me in the past though and it doesn’t help that most of my friends here are friggin’ OCD neat freaks (no offense! lol) so I feel really inadequate if I can’t keep up with that. At the same time, I know it’s really unrealistic of me to try to when my circumstances are different than theirs (i.e. work, more kids, ect.)
      Also, even though it sucks that men become such gaping assholes after playing their games, I’m glad I’m not the only one. Not that I ever thought I was, but I kinda think the PTSD thing makes it worse. He doesn’t take his frustrations out on me or the kids, but he does take it out on anything and anyone that is not us, which means he’s pretty much yelling obscenities at the TV for about 3 hours every night. We’ve fought about it over and over again and talked about it, too, but it hasn’t really helped much yet. He gets so stressed about stuff during the day and insists that coming home and killing something on a game will let him release some of that stress. He says his therapist agrees it’s a healthy outlet so either she’s got boobs for brains or he’s not being straight with her about his…uh…outbursts while he plays. I would love to talk to her myself and find out which one it is because my husband yelling “You son of a c*nt” every 5 minutes does not fly with me.

  2. Pingback: Creative Everyday: Volume 1 « bethylicious

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