The Cat's Away
The one that signs my paychecks, that is. Meaning I can sit back, heave a sigh of relief, and look around at my desk and immediately have a panic attack because I don't know what to do first. Then I realize all the stuff is in half-done mode, meaning I can't put it away, but I can't do anything else with it for a while--and then I just start shuffling piles and I feel better.
I've had to call two of our biggest headcase clients today. All I wanted to do was make appointments for them to come in and discuss their case. All they wanted to do was tell me about their miserable lives and how messed up they are. Then all I wanted to do was scream at them "there's nothing wrong with you and several doctors have confirmed it so get off your respective crosses and go back to work!!!" But I didn't.
I took Bob to the shrink's office today to follow-up on his anti-anxiety medication. She was shocked at how different he is from the last visit, before he had started the meds. I think it's harder for me to see because I'm Negative Nancy these days, but I did notice while we were in the waiting room, Bob found a book of crossword puzzles, went up to the desk to ask for a pencil, said "thank you" when they gave it to him, and then started writing numbers in the squares. He made it to 12. And he did a pretty good job of it, too, except he has that little-kid tendency to write a few numbers backwards. But he kept busy at it for a good 10 minutes. That would never have happened before. And she said he seems so much happier and "brighter," and truly, he is. She also pointed out db wasn't there and that might have also contributed to his better mood because he wasn't sitting there listening to db threaten and belittle me. Good point.
Tomorrow I get to go to the doctor myself and tell them this 50mg of Zoloft isn't doing jack shit. I still have panic attacks almost every morning. And now I'm getting seriously depressed every evening. By the time Bob goes to bed at 8:00, I just want to crawl into bed and stay there for two weeks or more. Last night there was the hope for a little nudge-nudge, wink-wink, but it ended up being me apologizing for being so miserable and him asking me why I can't just understand he's in it for the long haul and isn't going to leave me eventually.
The truth is, I can't stand to be around myself anymore--so I find it absurd that anyone, especially someone as great as he is, would want to be around me. I can't believe anyone would sign on for all this bullshit voluntarily and not eventually say "um, this sucks" and go out for groceries and never return.
I know I'm depressed. I fight it all day so that I can do my job and I fight it all evening so I can be a halfway decent parent and by the time that's over with for the day, I have virtually nothing left to give my poor husband. It's not fair to him, or to me, or to any of us.
I wonder if I could just get really good and tired of being unhappy and happy the hell up?
I've had to call two of our biggest headcase clients today. All I wanted to do was make appointments for them to come in and discuss their case. All they wanted to do was tell me about their miserable lives and how messed up they are. Then all I wanted to do was scream at them "there's nothing wrong with you and several doctors have confirmed it so get off your respective crosses and go back to work!!!" But I didn't.
I took Bob to the shrink's office today to follow-up on his anti-anxiety medication. She was shocked at how different he is from the last visit, before he had started the meds. I think it's harder for me to see because I'm Negative Nancy these days, but I did notice while we were in the waiting room, Bob found a book of crossword puzzles, went up to the desk to ask for a pencil, said "thank you" when they gave it to him, and then started writing numbers in the squares. He made it to 12. And he did a pretty good job of it, too, except he has that little-kid tendency to write a few numbers backwards. But he kept busy at it for a good 10 minutes. That would never have happened before. And she said he seems so much happier and "brighter," and truly, he is. She also pointed out db wasn't there and that might have also contributed to his better mood because he wasn't sitting there listening to db threaten and belittle me. Good point.
Tomorrow I get to go to the doctor myself and tell them this 50mg of Zoloft isn't doing jack shit. I still have panic attacks almost every morning. And now I'm getting seriously depressed every evening. By the time Bob goes to bed at 8:00, I just want to crawl into bed and stay there for two weeks or more. Last night there was the hope for a little nudge-nudge, wink-wink, but it ended up being me apologizing for being so miserable and him asking me why I can't just understand he's in it for the long haul and isn't going to leave me eventually.
The truth is, I can't stand to be around myself anymore--so I find it absurd that anyone, especially someone as great as he is, would want to be around me. I can't believe anyone would sign on for all this bullshit voluntarily and not eventually say "um, this sucks" and go out for groceries and never return.
I know I'm depressed. I fight it all day so that I can do my job and I fight it all evening so I can be a halfway decent parent and by the time that's over with for the day, I have virtually nothing left to give my poor husband. It's not fair to him, or to me, or to any of us.
I wonder if I could just get really good and tired of being unhappy and happy the hell up?
posted by Mitzi Green at 10:44 AM
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