I saw a therapist 2 weeks ago. It was just an intake session, so I spent the entire time just answering questions like "do you eat your hair?" It's expensive at the moment (until I meet my deductible) so I am planning on going every 2 weeks because that's how fast the necessary money gets in my health savings account. I had an appointment yesterday, which I was kind of really counting on. I spent all weekend thinking "maybe, just MAYBE, she'll give me some hope that I can cope with this bullshit."
And she called to reschedule.
I was on the verge of tears. I rescheduled it for tomorrow. But now I'm not so confident that it will help.
So, Friday I had an appointment to get my hair cut. It had finally grown out from my short pixie cut two years ago that I hated, so - OF COURSE - I felt the need to chop it all off again. I found a cut that I adored and was in a fabulous mood.
They did a pretty good job. The long side was a little longer than in the picture and the angle not as steep, but considering the disasters I've had in the past trying to get a stylist to copy a picture, it was great.
When I left, my husband was outside with the girls. The girls were upset because he was mad for whatever reason. He just looked at my hair funny, didn't really say much. But over the next 2 days, he would tell me that it made me look like a lesbian and that he'd be ashamed to leave the house if it were his hair. Oh, yes, OF COURSE he's joking. So my haircut I was so in love with, I now felt awful about. Thank you, dear.
Saturday was just crap. The girls were just defiant over everything and Bill literally cannot deal with that constructively, so it was screaming from all of them ALL DAY LONG. In a moment of peace between them, Bill was doing yard work and let Zoe ride in the lawn cart. She stood up and he didn't notice, and she ended up taking a tumble and spraining her shoulder. So there was more crying and yelling (because when Bill feels at fault about something, he lashes out at people - he can't possibly take the blame gracefully)
All this carried over to Sunday. We usually go over to my Mom's house on Sundays for a few hours, but she called and said she didn't feel well and asked us to stay home. So no reprieve there. The girls were just awful. Threatening to run away, demanding - DEMANDING? - I give them money or take them out to eat or this or that.
Then I went to deal with the laundry and stepped in dog poo.
I lost it.
I screamed at them. Realized I sounded like Bill and just went to lock myself in my bedroom. I cried. I read on Facebook that my Mom felt well enough to go to some social thing at the apartment complex, which I should have been grateful for, but instead I took it that she just didn't want to see me. I cried. I thought about how I asked Bill to go pick up a dogwood tree at Lowe's for me so I could replace the one that I planted last year in memory of my father that didn't survive the dry summer - and how he didn't and he KNEW why I needed him to do it and still didn't. And I got angry. I thought of what an ass he had been over my hair and I was just in a rage.
So I went into the bathroom and grabbed the clippers.
I'm not bald. It actually doesn't look all that different in the front, although I'm sure the back is a mess but I can't really tell because I don't have a handheld mirror. I tried checking it with my phone, but I just really can't get a good picture. I realized after that I kinda have a mohawk now. Everyone has said it's cute, but I'm not entirely convinced it has been genuine. And I can't bring myself to care.
So, that was my little breakdown moment. I cried so much that I felt like a mess yesterday. I still just feel raw. Everything sets me off wanting to cry. I literally feel like I'm truly alone right now. While part of me is still trying to tell myself that I'm overreacting and being dramatic, I can't help that I feel like no one wants to be around me. I don't really have any friends, a point that has stung quite a bit lately because my doctor and therapist both asked if there was someone I could talk to and I have to say there isn't. "No one at all?" No. No one at all. I feel like I'm failing as a mother because my children are acting so awful lately. My husband makes me feel like I'm just there to cook, clean, and serve his penis. I just want to run away. I'm right back where I was in December, begging my doctor for something to help. And it's not helping anymore. And now he's gone and my therapist might be a flake and I can't get in to see the psychiatrist about meds until May.
And Thursday is coming and I have a dead dogwood.
I'm going to dig it up today. I'm going to find time to go get a new tree, even if I have to perform some sort of magic to fit it in the minivan. I'm going to plant that tree so that I have a new one by Thursday. I'll go to therapy on Wednesday and she'll have magical advice. And I'll be OK.
Somehow, I'll be OK>