Here I go again on my own

I haven't had a chance to write since today is technically the first day I've had to myself since Friday of last week.

Lacey and Scott came to spend the weekend. Lacey and I went and got our hair cut by Jena and then came back to my place and watched I Care A Lot, had a good time, going to Target to get minis and cleaning out my old Barbie kitchen. When Scott got here, they ordered pizza and we played a round of the 90's game, ordered Lacey's saber.

On Sunday we woke up and Doordashed breakfast (I swear to god, the people at Doordash must share one directional IQ point between all of them, because they can never find me) and then fucked around until it was time to get ready to go to Velvet Cactus. Lacey, Stacie, Brit, Liz, Holly and myself all had a great time, drinking raspberry margaritas and talking shit. Lacey decided to go home since it was a far drive for her, so Brit, Liz and I all pointed ourselves to Elmwood and hung out at Derek's. Ju, Brad, Derek, Scott and Sam were all there and we had a good time playing the 90's game and watching the world break Julian's mind. I went home since I had to work Monday and had my first therapy session, too. Scott came back later that night.

My job is going very well. They released productivity reports today and I'm where I need to be, which is good, because I work at getting my cases every day. I also got a great compliment from a clinic that got forwarded around to the higher-ups, so it was a good frame of mind to start my first therapy session with. Scott left to go run some errands so I could have privacy.

I did end up crying like an idiot, which I hate and was embarrassed over, but she was totally cool and chill, which I need. She says I have a good head on my shoulders and that I am wayyyyy too hard on myself, and she wants to try to get me on Lexapro, which I'm not so convinced on because medicine and I don't get along, but if you're gonna do the damn thing you should do it all. She can't prescribe it, but I set up a visit on Saturday morning with Dr. Madrecha, which I need anyway. My next therapy appointment is March 19th, which is a lot sooner than I thought it'd be. I'm looking forward to it. Knowing that I'm doing something about it gives me a weapon to brandish against the anxiety. I'm just relieved to have someone who doesn't tell me to 'just think positively'. Telling someone who has anxiety to 'just think positively' is like stabbing someone and then telling them to stop bleeding.

Unfortunately, a lot of things happened the day of my therapy. Bryan's Mom's health is failing and he was not doing well, understandably, so I said he could come stay here so Scott and I could keep an eye on him. He didn't end up getting here until 10pm, and Derek and Brittany came to hang out for a bit with him, too. By the time we got to bed it was past midnight, and we were exhausted. Maybe this was Tuesday, the week has been so busy that I can't think anymore. Bryan chilled on my couch while Scott was at work and I was making cases, and then my sister had to stop by and use my printer, then my aunt had to stop by and pick up some money, and then Brit stopped by again to hang out with Bry for awhile before he went home.

I've started to tear my damn upper lip again, a nervous tic I have when I'm overwhelmed and nervous. I don't mind people coming over and I definitely want to be there for my friends, but I think it was a lot of big stuff happening in one week, and Jack's anxiety is 12,000x worse with all of those people around, which makes him clingy, which makes me stressed out, and then I feel like trash because he's 14 and I don't want to spend these years with him yelling at him. I need the little fucker.

Tonight is the first night I've been on my own and I've spent most of it yelling at my bathtub because it won't drain and I can't take a bath, which definitely doesn't help my anxiety. I finally said fuck it and took a shower....which made the goddamn bath drain.

I only have tonight and tomorrow to relax, and that will probably be spent cleaning because I've got people coming over on Saturday and I also have the MD appointment. To keep my hands off of my mouth and my brain from jumping over my balcony, I've been tagging my pictures, which works perfectly because I have to concentrate, and it also brings back a lot of great memories that I've forgotten about. Fuck. I'd give anything I have to go back to being 20 again. I thought I had fucking problems. I had a $50 phone bill and a free bed to sleep in and my biggest fucking issue was wondering if some dude was going to IM me. Of course, when I'm 45, I'll wish I was where I am now. Hindsight, and all.

......HA.

Don't make me choke on my goddamn falsies. I never want to be 35 again. Or 34. Or 33.

When is the perfect time to white out your life, if you could at all? All the things I wish I didn't have to deal with or feel have been the things that have taught me the most. Without those things, who knows where I'd be? Without those things, who knows where I wouldn't be? I'll never know. I am only where I am.

Biloxi coming up next week, anxious about $. I got my tax return but bills are going to fuck me raw this check. Trying to rack up the OT. It's supposed to be a relaxing trip, but we have Half Shell and hibachi and Play and Talk and...

I have to stop. I always find a way. I find a way. It's what I do. So fuck off, brain. Fuck off entirely.

-Rae