I Broke My Therapist...

Anyone else go to a therapist?  I went to see mine today. Due to my schedule and her schedule, we hadn't seen each other for a few weeks.  I caught her up on all the drama and then we talked about my general feeling of doom and how I'm not really able to visualize the future or what it might hold for me.  I'm a hot mess. Anyone that has ever visited my blog, read my Facebook, met me in person...heard about me....whatever, they all know I'm a hot mess.  This is why I go to therapy.

Today, during our session, I think I might have reached a moment, even if ever so brief, that I broke my therapist.  She just looked at me, her mouth open a little, eyes kind of big, kind of like, WTF? Her eyebrows seemed confused and for just a moment, no words could come out.  I don't know if it was a break through for me, or for her, but it was a moment, and I just started to laugh.  Leave it to me to break my therapist.  I was telling her how I was 41 years old and had already lived through the best years of my life and that there really wasn't much to look forward to, especially since the best years felt wasted.  I don't even have good memories from the younger years to live off of and carry me through.  I told her I felt bad feeling the way I do when other people around me are going through far more troubles than I am.  We had  brief discussion about this, and how, regardless of who has the worst story, I still have a right to feel my feelings.  We decided I fall right in the middle between a 20 hour a day sweat shop job and sitting home eating bon-bons.  Somewhere right there in the middle, that is where my life is.  It's good to have that kind of clarity, I think.

We moved on to my lack of faith that I will have a future and how no one is promised tomorrow.  For all I know, I wasted today being pissed off about running out of post-its and having to restrain myself from biffing someone in the face. Tomorrow I could be dead and then my last day would have been wasted on post-it resentment and unrealized assault. Is that how I want to spend my last day? But, what if I DO end up living for a long time?  I don't have a retirement plan, I mean, not a good one.  I'm on the card board box plan.  I'm going to end up living in a box and begging on the street corner with a sign that says, "I'm sad and I need a cheeseburger." And, for my day job, I'm going to have to be a greeter at Walmart to buy bunion creme and Q-tips.  And that's if I don't die from some disease before that, or have some lingering disease and end up living outside in a bush that all the dogs piss on at the local volunteer vet clinic where they have an outpatient program for the elderly.  Scientists will probably have discovered that old pet meds can be used to treat the elderly.  The government sure isn't going to have any money to care for me. All of their money is going to be going towards all the 18 year olds having multiple kids and living off of welfare and illegal immigrants. I'm not saying this is going to happen, but I'm not saying it isn't.  I'll end up dying alone in some alley with all the stray cats waiting for me to die so they can live off of my carcass.  I said all of this and my therapist, albeit briefly, was mystified at my outlook.

She did finally blink.  So I continued.  I went on to tell her that I had been chasing this thing called happiness my whole life and truly the only people that understand true happiness live in a special place with tall walls, lots of little pills and a staff of people that talk to you like you are in Disneyland.  They shuffle around in their cotton smocks, fluffy slippers and they watch Wheel of Fortune. People come to visit them, but they don't know who they are.  They seem happy to see the people that claim to be family and they go for walks outside in the park-like area with the high cement walls.  There is a lake with some ducks. It's fun to feed the ducks.  They like breadcrumbs.  These people, they know happiness without knowing that they know happiness.  They just live day to day.  Well, with me being on the cardboard plan, I can't even get that.  I'd get the state run facility where I get issued a spork, a Dixie cup, a paper gown that opens in the back and slippers made from recycled plastic bags.  You get enemas from nurses with bad manicures instead of little blue pills and you have to watch marathons of Swamp People and the 700 Club.  There is one deck of cards for everyone to use and half of the deck is missing.  How ironic. 

Anyway, that is kind of what we talked about today.  She wrote some stuff down.  I think we are finally starting to get somewhere.  I see her again in two weeks.  I guess we'll pick up where we left off. I asked her how long she was planning on staying in practice and if she had a retirement plan.  She looked confused, but said that she hoped to retire at a decent age.  I advised her that, if it was not already apparent, that I would be needing her services for a while, so I hoped she could stick it out for years to come.  I think I might have just inspired her to see a financial planner.  I'm a giver, what can I say?  I help people.

Sweet Dreams Minions of Doom...

I apparently woke up with "Angry Cat" face this morning.  I mean, I think I do EVERY morning, probably, but no one is here to see it.  Will had a little bit later shift, so he came in the bathroom as I was just getting out of the shower.  He's like, "why the angry face?"  I said, "What do you expect my face to look like? It looks like this every morning."  He agreed, gave me a quick kiss and left. 

The angry face apparently followed me to work.  I had to stop in at Safeway to pick up some gift cards and some candy for the dish at my desk since some people were complaining about the lack of candy.  Whatever.  I get up there to buy the gift card I needed and the guy informs me I have to pay cash.  I'm like, "What do you mean I have to pay cash, this is a corporate expense with my corporate card?"  He said he was sorry, but that was the policy.  I was pissed.  I buy cards at this very store ALL. THE. TIME.  No one hassles me, they just sell me the damn cards.  "Sorry, Miss, that is our policy, and has been for the last year." I responded, "Well, the rest of the employees here clearly do not care about the policy as they ALWAYS sell me the cards, and I come in here often."  He wasn't budging.  I could tell, I could bust his balls all damn day and this guy was not gonna give it up.  He was a rule follower.  His underwear are pressed and folded in his drawer.  He knows what he is going to wear the night before and his food is alphabetized in the pantry. He isn't going to let me upset the status of national freaking security by allowing me to purchase a Visa pre-paid gift card for $390.  He is the gate keeper.  He is looking into the eyes of a crazed angry face and he is unafraid.  If the zombies come,  I want this guy on the front line.  I told him I would take my business elsewhere. I showed him. Mother trucker.

I arrive at work early and the craziness begins.  Another group of people were moved into our new area over the night.  I was doing inventory and checking on the troops.  There were a myriad of problems, but I, as the move coordinator, jumped in and handled them.  It's my job, it's what I do.  Later, as I am walking over to find the boss of the newly moved troops, Sassafras Hassenfphefer, I walk up and he says, "We were just talking about you..."  I said, "oh yeah, why?"  He said, "everyone was saying how you were over here this morning taking care of all the broken stuff and caring for their needs and seemed chipper and I said, Wow, she must have sucked someone's soul out to be that happy."  I said, "hey now!"  Hmpf.  See, this is why I shouldn't be friendly, ever.  People get freaked out, they don't know what to make of it and then suddenly, I must have sucked out someone's soul.  Whatever.  I've said it before, and I'll say it again, being a bitch consistently is the way to keep the force undisturbed. 

Anyway, the rest of the day was busy with testing candidates and caring for whatever needed caring for.  I left at a reasonable hour for the first time in a while.  I headed home, took care of the ponies and decided to kick back and check out some stuff on Facebook.  I see that most everyone is supporting gay marriage, that's nice, saw a few quotes about how you have to overcome fear and hurdles to realize your dreams...blah, blah, blah, every day is a blessing, someone had a baby, someone found 25 lipsticks in her purse, someone posted a mostly naked guy, someone posted a yummy recipe, you know, the usual stuff.  Then I see this thing about how while everyone was worried about gay marriage that Obama passed a law called the Monsanto Protection Act, which basically has some fine print from the government saying how they aren't responsible for all this genetically processed shit that is going on food and that how if we all die, it isn't their fault. I asked Will, what is this stuff in?  He said, "everything."   He then gave me a long dissertation on the whole deal. So, basically, if I understand correctly, we are screwed.  Everything we eat may or may not kill us.  The zombies may or may not kill us.  The ozone layer may or may not kill us.  Everything we do and eat causes cancer, which may or may not kill us.  Weapons are everywhere, the owners of said weapons may or may not kill us. The government is so completely corrupt, we are all doomed. Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, all lies.  And pajama jeans, are they jeans or are they pajamas?  I can't live like this.  It's all too much.  I don't know how to live or what to do or what to believe anymore.

Is this getting too dramatic?  I mean, I can go on and on, but I really do need to get some sleep.  I'm sure this will foster up some great dreams. I'm going to need the power of the unicorn light to guide me into slumber.

Okay, let's call it a day. Goodnight. Sweet dreams, fellow minions of doom.

Week in Review - a Novel

This week has been an exhausting "charlie foxtrot" of events.  I knew it would be stressful, but I didn't realize it was going to be utter chaos.  Monday and Tuesday were filled with me trying to get stuff done so I could focus on packing up my desk.  Everyone that sits on the South side of the building has to move to the North side of the building.  I am the move coordinator for our group, so I am responsible for everyone else being ready and working with the movers, the IT folks, the phone guy, etc.  It would not do for me to not be ready when it is my turn.  My turn was Wednesday of this week. Thanks to my pals at work, I was mostly ready by Tuesday night.  I would finish on Wednesday morning. No worries, right?

Wednesday is the day everything went to shit.  Now, I can't say that it was all my fault, but I posted the following on my Facebook page on Wednesday morning before going to work: "If I expect all hell to break loose, maybe the day will "disappoint" me and be uneventful. Maybe I will try this approach."  Don't EVER try this approach.  

The dude in charge of building my new area came over to my desk and advised me that they needed to take my current desk apart to re-build it in my new area.  Crap.  I did some power packing and got the rest of my desk packed and relocated myself out on the sales floor among the sales people temporarily.  This felt weird.  Anyway, while I am sitting there, trying to get some crap done, my phone rings.  It's my sister.  She advises me that she was at my house and a tree had just fallen down and ripped out the power line that went from the road to my house and that the power meter had been ripped off the side of my house.  Additionally, the tree had smashed our pump house.  The power line was down across my porch so you can't get in. Effing Fantastic!!! Luckily my neighbors were calling it in to the PUD and contacting the landlord, etc.  Good to have nice neighbors.  So, now, I'm worried about my house, but nothing I can do, so I continue working.  I hear the guys deconstructing my desk, "Gross, there are two dead mice over here."  Sick.  I walk over, and there, on a sticky pad, are what I believe to be the Romeo and Juliet of mice.  I mean, why else would two mice be on there?  When the first one crawled up on there and got stuck, what made that second one come over there?  I don't know how smart mice are, but speaking as a human, if you walk into, say, quick sand, a huge crevasse, a cliff that is breaking away, or a huge sticky pad, I'm not coming for you.  I'm just being honest. I checked to see if they were holding feet or had their tails intertwined, but that wasn't the case.  They were kind of in a spooning position.  I hope that one mouse wasn't trying to diddle the other mouse while it was stuck there.  Fifty shades of "oh shit, I'm stuck."  Anyway, I never put a sticky pad under there, so I have no idea how long they were there.  I didn't have my CSI kit, so I couldn't poke the liver to guess time of death, but based on the fur and receding eye sockets, it's safe to say this was not a fresh kill.

Let's move on.  They finally got my new area ready and I went and moved in.  I needed to be ready for Thursday because we had another hiring open house.  We all know how much I love those.  I got as organized as I could and headed home. It was late and I was dreading going home to a house with no power.  Upon arriving home, I realized the PUD had not yet come to turn our power off. Apparently, what had to happen is that the PUD had to turn us off and then, someone needed to clear the trees from the lines, and then, an electrician had to come fix the wiring on the house, and then the PUD would come back out and turn us on.  This was not going to be resolved today.  So, what I have, at this point, is a power line that is still live hanging off the side of my house and across my porch and my main door in.  Okay people, time to limbo.  This is not safe at all.  It's still windy and I am looking at all these other trees that are blowing and bending.  It's possible we could die tonight.  I mean, I wasn't going to post that on Facebook, the universe already called my bluff once today.  I go in the house and Will is sitting by the glow of a lamp.  Apparently we have enough power to do one thing at a time.  Like, one lamp, or one light and it kept dimming and flickering.  Fan-fucking-tastic.  

After many phone calls to the idiot landlord and debating on getting a motel, we decided to tough it out and stay.  We made it through the night and were able to shower.  Blow drying my hair in the dark only took like 20 minutes thanks to the super ridiculous small amount of power I had.  I might as well have had someone blowing in my face. Anyway, since I hadn't slept most of the night, I was up way early.  Off to work I go. I'm there by 7am.  I walk in and my boss is sitting at my desk.  WTF? He never gets here this early.  I guess since I refused to pack his stuff, he had to get up early and come in at 5AM before the movers started to finish packing his office.  His lap top is at my desk and he is working.  I sit down at my PC next to him.  Creepy. This is creepy.  Anyway, it was just moments of being there that everyone came out of the woodwork needing things.  Off I go!

My day was chaotic and crazy and I felt completely overwhelmed, but there was no time for that. It wasn't long and it was time for the open house to start.  We always hope to attract some superstars.  My favorite of the day was the older guy in a gray T-shirt with "mad scientist" hair that was clearly a long term smoker.  I ask what kind of sales experience he has.  He tells me he doesn't really have any.  Well, he has some, but it was a LONG, LONG time ago.  I imagine he is in his late 50's early 60's.  I press him further.  He finally tells me that the sales experience he has was selling candy bars for a fund-raiser in grade school.  Okay, then. I then ask him about his computer skills.  He says, it just so happens, he took a class down at the community college.  I mean, he says, he doesn't have much skill, but some.  We've got a live one.  Let's get him down to testing and let nature take it's course.

It's getting close to 7pm, I've been at work for 12 hours now.  I'm tired.  I already know I have no power at home as the PUD finally came out and turned off my power.  My husband calls and says, screw this, we are going to a motel and he has already made reservations.  How exciting!  He is even going to pack my stuff for me and meet me there.  I provided him a list of everything I needed and hoped for the best.

I arrived at the motel he picked before he did.  I was feeling a little skeptical.  There was a cat going door to door trying to get in a room, any room.  Then, there are a couple of scrungy looking kids hanging over the railing smoking.  Then a truck pulls up next to me, a couple get out and just start going at it.  I mean, groping, kissing, hands everywhere.  Wow.  Did they not understand that these rooms rent out for this type of thing and that they didn't have to actually have sex in the parking lot?  Finally they finished up and she got in a car and left.  Well, there is one less person that will be banging on the wall keeping me up all night.  Will finally arrives and I give him a raised eyebrow.  Really? This is what you picked?  None the less, we got our room key and Will gets my bags out.  Yes, I just said, "bags."  Holy crap, what all did he bring me?  This is just for one night, right?  All that Boyscout training paid off, I guess.  Anyway, we settled in and then ran over to Jack-in-the-Box for dinner since it was getting late.  I felt completely exhausted and drained.  I ate a few bites of my burger, a few bites of fries and I was done.  Then I saw their dessert menu.  I needed comfort. I ordered a piece of chocolate cake and Will got the Churro's.  We went back to our motel, stripped down to our underwear and ate our fast food delights.  I looked at Will lying on the bed in his boxers eating churos and myself on the couch eating something that I should not be eating, something that was actually making me sick and thought, I've hit bottom. We just needed some meth to make this a perfect moment for a Christmas card photo.  Admittedly, I did  take one pic of Will mostly naked eating his churro.  No worries, it is for my personal enjoyment (and blackmail), I won't post it.

We finally crawled into bed and called it a day.  The sheets were surprisingly soft.  I couldn't help but wonder how many people had had sex on them, but was so tired, I remembered I didn't care and finally fell asleep.  I slept okay until 2:30am when some girl next to us started giggling. LOUD. She must have been staying with a comedian, because she laughed A  LOT.  All Freaking Night.  Yeah, getting a motel room was the answer to a restful night. Ugh. My cell phone alarm went off at 5:30am to the Gummy Bears song.  Crap, how did that happen? Who set that as my wake up tone?  No one is ready for that at 5:30am.  I get up and turn on the light over the sinks.  It is a florescent light that is buzzing and flickering.  I have have bags under my eyes, my eye lids are red, I look like a bloodhound.  I take a shower and upon getting out, I hear my phone go off. Will informs me it is snowing like a mo-fo in Everett.  This is freaking fantastic as I am wearing a dress and shoes with a little bit of a heel.  Great snow day outfit!!!! I would like a break.  Anyone?  Universe, I'm calling "Uncle." Truce? Please?

I drive to work and I'm so tired.  I didn't have my vitamin shake this morning. No breakfast, so I am dragging. I'm driving in a blizzard and am unaffected as my eyes linger on the closed part of the blink a little longer than they should.  I arrive to work to a few inches of snow in the parking lot and deep slush.  I'm taking little baby steps and praying I don't end up on my ass.

I walk in the building and the security guard is giving instruction to the open house participants that are early.  Instructions that are all wrong.  I'm like, "WHOA.  Everyone just have a seat, we will be with you shortly."  The security guard throws his arms up, "my bad, sorry."  I give him a smile I don't feel and say, "it's okay."  I get to my desk and open my email which is containing about 5 fires that need to be put out. Sweet Jesus.  I have a half day today as I have doctors appointments this afternoon, I don't have time for this crap.

I do the flight of the bumblebee until noon and then it is off to the doctor.  We discuss my progress and how things are going, how my blood work was, what my future holds, etc.  Then, he wants to see the "road map" on my belly.  I pull up my dress.  As he is taking in all my incisions and my belly and touching it and such, I couldn't help but think, "was today really the best day for the polka dot underwear?"  Felt a little weird standing there holding up my dress like a pre-schooler on stage at a Christmas program.  The doctor, naturally, did not comment on my underwear choice.  He was too enamored with my extra belly button incision.  Yeah, that's awesome, isn't it?  He says it will go away.  We'll see.

So, the end to my long day, and long week, was traveling the speed of a slug from Edmonds all the way home. The great end to my day was that the power was finally back on at our house.  Will arrived home moments after me.  We both changed out of our work clothes, climbed into bed with the dogs and took the best power nap ever.  Home Sweet Home.

I guess the moral of this whole story is, do not joke around with the Universe.  The Universe is a bitch and has a wicked-mean sense of humor.  Crap, I just called the Universe a bitch.  I'll never learn.