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Sometimes I get (insane? upset? nuttier than a fruitcake?) depressed. Really, really depressed. And since I neither want nor can I afford the "treatments" (both therapy and/or medication) suggested by the last doctor I talked to about my mood swings oh-so-many years ago, I struggle through as best as possible.
Usually my dear, dear husband figures out what's wrong after a day or three (and the manic period before hand is usually a big clue) and does his best to make sure I'm as comfortable as possible until the mood shifts. He understands that there are times when I just don't want to be around people. Any people. At all.
He also knows that I'm horribly frightened of being alone. (Not as traumatic as my fear of spiders, but right up there. And, since I'm letting you all know what a freak I am, I'm also afraid of heights, small spaces and I don't particularly like snakes or spinach. The spinach isn't really a fear, I suppose, but the smell tends to make me ill and reminds me of my psychotic-former babysitter who had a rather large hand in causing quite a few of these phobias since the insane bint used to lock me up in a small room alone everyday but that is neither here nor there.) So he would make sure I knew he was in another room and that if I needed him, he was there. And for several days we would hardly speak, spend very little time together and he would make up excuses for why I wouldn't show up at friendly gatherings.
But he's not here. And he won't be here for a very long time. And when he does come back, it will only be for a matter of days before the Army sends him somewhere else. It's all very upsetting really.
Which leads me back to the topic of this little entry. I've been hiding. I log on to my computer and tell MSN to pretend I'm not logged in. I ignore the phone. I wander around the store like one of the walking dead. I've been sleeping. A lot. And I wake up tired. I've got zero interest in anything.
I know I should make an effort to... well, do something. It's part of the bio-rhythm stuff they tried to get me to learn when I told them I wasn't going to take any more pills. But without DH around as a reminder, it's hard. I miss him.
Enough with the self pity.
Ass.boss sent me home because I was "sick" today. I think it might have something to do with the fact that I caught her in an act of bad management. She reamed me out on the floor in front of other employees about restocking the stupid backpacks. I walked away, calmed down for about five minutes and then asked to speak with her in her office. BECAUSE I HAVE ENOUGH CLASS TO TAKE IT SOME PLACE PRIVATE! I asked if I could close the door and then sat down and stared at her for a moment.
"You do remember me asking you about the backpacks two weeks ago, right? When I said that they weren't getting restocked by the overstock guys and I asked if I should start doing that myself? Ringing any bells? And then you told me not to worry about it, to let the overstock guys take care of it?"
I swear, I could see the little hamster running around in her brain/wheel. "I do remember something like that, now that you mention it. Yes. I've changed my mind, you need to do it."
"That's fine, but you need to tell me when you make a new decision. Because I've spent the last two weeks following your last decision." Mmm-kay?
"Right. Good point. Very good point. Excellent point. Yes, well." I swear by all that is holy she actually said that.
Then she sent me home because I looked "unwell". Of course I look unwell, I feel like crap, I haven't seen my husband in a month and a half, I have to deal with the F'in ARMY (which would drive any sane person to drinking), in a few short weeks I'm going to have to make a seven hour drive down to his base and deal with the F'in ARMY IN PERSON (which, really, I think deserves several Bahama Mamas and a Cape Cod or four), there's a gigantic web beginning to encircle my house and for Shite's-sake I've got to talk to her every day. Yes, my stomach is upset. It's nerves. Bugger off, cow.
In other news, I've been told that some guy friends are coming out to the house to do "Man's Work" since DH is gone. How cute. I believe they are mainly coming out to de-web the house and to possibly chase Aragog out of the window.
Usually my dear, dear husband figures out what's wrong after a day or three (and the manic period before hand is usually a big clue) and does his best to make sure I'm as comfortable as possible until the mood shifts. He understands that there are times when I just don't want to be around people. Any people. At all.
He also knows that I'm horribly frightened of being alone. (Not as traumatic as my fear of spiders, but right up there. And, since I'm letting you all know what a freak I am, I'm also afraid of heights, small spaces and I don't particularly like snakes or spinach. The spinach isn't really a fear, I suppose, but the smell tends to make me ill and reminds me of my psychotic-former babysitter who had a rather large hand in causing quite a few of these phobias since the insane bint used to lock me up in a small room alone everyday but that is neither here nor there.) So he would make sure I knew he was in another room and that if I needed him, he was there. And for several days we would hardly speak, spend very little time together and he would make up excuses for why I wouldn't show up at friendly gatherings.
But he's not here. And he won't be here for a very long time. And when he does come back, it will only be for a matter of days before the Army sends him somewhere else. It's all very upsetting really.
Which leads me back to the topic of this little entry. I've been hiding. I log on to my computer and tell MSN to pretend I'm not logged in. I ignore the phone. I wander around the store like one of the walking dead. I've been sleeping. A lot. And I wake up tired. I've got zero interest in anything.
I know I should make an effort to... well, do something. It's part of the bio-rhythm stuff they tried to get me to learn when I told them I wasn't going to take any more pills. But without DH around as a reminder, it's hard. I miss him.
Enough with the self pity.
Ass.boss sent me home because I was "sick" today. I think it might have something to do with the fact that I caught her in an act of bad management. She reamed me out on the floor in front of other employees about restocking the stupid backpacks. I walked away, calmed down for about five minutes and then asked to speak with her in her office. BECAUSE I HAVE ENOUGH CLASS TO TAKE IT SOME PLACE PRIVATE! I asked if I could close the door and then sat down and stared at her for a moment.
"You do remember me asking you about the backpacks two weeks ago, right? When I said that they weren't getting restocked by the overstock guys and I asked if I should start doing that myself? Ringing any bells? And then you told me not to worry about it, to let the overstock guys take care of it?"
I swear, I could see the little hamster running around in her brain/wheel. "I do remember something like that, now that you mention it. Yes. I've changed my mind, you need to do it."
"That's fine, but you need to tell me when you make a new decision. Because I've spent the last two weeks following your last decision." Mmm-kay?
"Right. Good point. Very good point. Excellent point. Yes, well." I swear by all that is holy she actually said that.
Then she sent me home because I looked "unwell". Of course I look unwell, I feel like crap, I haven't seen my husband in a month and a half, I have to deal with the F'in ARMY (which would drive any sane person to drinking), in a few short weeks I'm going to have to make a seven hour drive down to his base and deal with the F'in ARMY IN PERSON (which, really, I think deserves several Bahama Mamas and a Cape Cod or four), there's a gigantic web beginning to encircle my house and for Shite's-sake I've got to talk to her every day. Yes, my stomach is upset. It's nerves. Bugger off, cow.
In other news, I've been told that some guy friends are coming out to the house to do "Man's Work" since DH is gone. How cute. I believe they are mainly coming out to de-web the house and to possibly chase Aragog out of the window.
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