2014 was supposed to be the year that I really got it together, because frankly, I had so totally "streamlined" (read "cocked-up") my life that there wasn't a whole lot left to get together. Boy, was I wrong! I've been running like a bat out of hell since January 1, and really don't have a whole hell of a lot to show for it, except that I've leveled up several times in Attack and am getting my 99 Cape of Achievement in two weeks.
The electrician came because our lights have been flickering up and down, ever since we got new neighbors, but they're leaving because their freakin' drug dealer was pounding on the door day and night. Rather than dealing with it in my normal fashion, which would be to confront the asshole, and since I can no longer have a firearm, since I've been deemed mentally ill, and that is no longer an option, I went to my landlord who threw the bastards out. They are finally leaving after delay, after delay, after delay. I faced down the drug dealer after he showed up every 15 fucking minutes looking for his money, with the time-honored method of out-ballsing him; kinda the same way I did with the muggers.
I put my laptop in the front door and sat behind it, with my LifeCam facing out, after Mr. Dealer had buzzed by our place about 80 times in the course of 90 minutes. The dealer got the hint and instead of trying to look in my house and see what kinds of goodies he could steal, in lieu of payment from the welsher next door, he took a powder. Sometimes, ya just have to get slicker than the slicks running around here; I should become a crime lord.
Anyway, the electrician should probably be on trial for murder or something; when he left the lights still flickered and now the water is the temperature of the Sun. He's been lurking around the other houses and when he sees us, he looks sheepish/happy as if he's glad/surprised we haven't burned to death. I'm calling the Electric Company and having them in to do a once-over ASAP.
This would just be business-as-usual, but JC is just getting over pneumonia and I have been trying to get my own doctor's appointments set up. This is a major undertaking for just him, but I've put off my own things, as I've felt well and he's been so sick over the past year. He's finally starting to come back around and get out more and I am really happy about that.
What I wasn't happy about was yesterday, when he came home, here right behind him comes the druggie-welsher neighbor, who while in the process of moving, ran into JC, as he was returning from an appointment. I had had a bad morning, complete with a dressing-down from Brighthouse who tried to tell me I owed them 68.00, when I pay them a month in advance. I called to cancel because I got a much better deal with Verizon, plus a land line, so I can go back to work part-time (VERY part-time) for an old company. I told Samantha of the Retention Department, that I would NOT be paying any 68.00 bill, as I was paid in full, and that I, in fact, was cancelling a day prior to my payment due date.
So, already pissed, I discovered that I had missed my own psychiatrist's appointment of February 4th. This is a special kind of hell; they never call and remind us of our appointments anymore and it took me 6 weeks to get a new prescription for my Cymbalta, back in October. This front office has done more to obstruct my psychiatric care than any other specialist I have and it's unconscionable. I have been Baker-Acted. I have a history of violence, when provoked. Wouldn't you want to keep that person placated, or at least go along with that person, while you're calling out the guys with the white coats and nets? I came so very, very close to saying "Y'know what? This is all a big pile of shit and fuck it!" Start taking hostages and barricading myself.
It goes that quickly and when I've had little to no sleep and am on edge and am trying to help JC and do 90 million other things and I get abuse on the phone, I just go starkers. It's really enough to push one over the edge. The so very, very frightening thing about this, is that I can gauge it. I know when I've reached my limit and there's always a point, where I can say "Stop". I haven't reached critical mass. But I am so afraid that one day, the set of circumstances will be enough for me to just let it reach critical mass. That's when I understand what people do when they take hostages or kill wantonly and it's not us, it's the society. God willing, the governor is in good shape. I have a good support system and I can laugh at the truly idiotic idea of my own psychiatrist's receptionist's being the trigger for my last two near-melt-downs. But really? Shouldn't she be in another line of work? I'm going to suggest that to my doctor at my next appointment, come February 13, 2014 at 2:45 pm.