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.
For a long time, I could see out of only my right eye. I wish I'd had my eye doctor fuse my eyes together. This would have been neat!
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.
I never bought in to that happy Redy Kilowatt guy. Killerwatt is more like it. They actually have something called Killerwatz in Runescape as a slayer monster and I couldn't do them; they freaked out what little is left of my retinal and optical nerves. Electricity belongs in the ground or the sky, not in people, or at least not in great quantities.
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.
I'm fairly sure the people that have dealt with me sans bipolar meds would prefer I be somewhat, er, sedated. Were I able to skip the middleman, I would be first in line to do so, but it seems here lately, that customers are a plague. In the last month, I've been yelled at by my bank, Bright House and now, once again, my psychiatrist's receptionist. I worked with customers on the phones for years and never encountered the hostility I've run into here, recently and I make it a point to reward good customer service.
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.
6 comments:
Great post. I tend to rant and yak at times, on my own blog. Life has a way of kicking us in the pooper shooter. Painful as it is. I hope there won't be unexpected surprises for you.
Thanks for stopping by Mrsschmoe! What I forgot to add in my rant, was that the neighbor-druggie who came in unawares, stole a 20.00 bill that I had left out for laundry.
My bad really, but in your own house? I've had 2 home invasions, but as I've been Baker-Acted, which here in Florida is a committal, and being deemed mentally ill, I can no longer have a firearm, which is probably a good thing. I was ready to march next door and confront the neighbor who is moving, but he gave us all his canned goods, so I guess he just "self-bought" or something.
It's just beyond ridiculous that we have to behave like this to protect what is ours, but JC, as much as I love him, is not to be relied upon anymore, as he has aged. He was focused on his new TV setup and even knowing that the neighbor is a thief, thought nothing of it, when the guy followed him inside. Our other close neighbor, Alex, caught up to him, but not before the damage was done.
Again, thanks for visiting. I tend to try and limit my exposure to the human race; both in person and over the phone, due to this kind of thing. It just kills me though, that my psychiatrist's receptionist is the one who has nearly pushed me over the edge, not once, but twice now. I will have to bring it up with him and if he will not address it, I sill have to find a new psychiatrist. Enough is enough! Thanks, Mary. xoxo
I love your honestly and your openness. Some days . . . I know what I mean.
I hate to tell you but the whole psychiatrist's office thing? We get the same thing where I live. I work in health call and all of the mental health offices have a policy where if you miss your appointment - too bad, so sad. Really? People with mental illness can't be counted on to get out of bed in the morning, much less make it to appointments on time. We all get it, why don't they? Why did they choose that particular field if they don't care about people.
All right, so there's my rant for the day.
Please tell me the druggies are long gone by now. You don't deserve that mess with that moron knocking on the door.
I take Cymbalta for my migraines and am trying to taper off of it. Gah! It's been tough on me. Blasted side effects are awful. I need to call my migraine specialist to find out a better way.
Nice to meet a fellow minion!
Elsie
AJ's wHooligan in the A-Z Challenge
I am currently homeless, and my life is pretty much in the shit-can, with a number of the same issues you are dealing with. It is at least encouraging to hear this story from someone who succeeded in getting a roof over their head again. I live in hope of doing it myself someday.
Oh, man. Customer service these days, anywhere, will drive anyone to their sniper rifles. Where I live there's no service culture at all. The customer is, indeed, the plague, and walking into a store you're more likely to get a nasty look (for interrupting the conversation) than even a perfunctory smile. God forbid you actually *need* something--the answer is always No. Argh! And then there's the exceptions, which shine all the brighter because the background is so drab. I do find them every once in a while--funnily enough, the more focused I am on something good, the more they seem to pop up. I wish you many of these exceptions, darling, today and every day :)
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