The Super Awesome Fun Day

So Monday was AWESOME! AMAZING! I went rock climbing, water skiing, went to Disneyland, and rode rollercoaster riders until I threw up! Really!

Okay, not so much.

Saturday, Matt received the Demand Letter.

Maybe I will consider showing it to you, but I don't know about that. I'm not even comfortable looking at that thing myself let alone waving it around willy-nilly on the internet. (Even if everything is blacked out.)

Saturday night, some guy presses his face against my bedroom window while I stand naked and screaming staring back at him.

Sunday I had a photo shoot. I didn't take the dog out to pee until after 4pm because I was afraid to leave the house. When I finally got on the freeway for the shoot, I drive not, 3 miles and lights and sirens in my rearview. I am composed for exactly 10 seconds before I flip out.

"GET OUT OF MY WAY! LET ME OVER! LET ME OVER! LET ME OVER YOU MOTHER BLEEPING BLEEPING BLEEPING BLEEPER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

(Obviously the vehicle in the next lane wouldn't let me over so I couldn't get away from the stupid CHP and I had a little meltdown.)

Ahem.

Then I sobbed. And sobbed. And so on and so forth. For about... 60 seconds. While I changed from Interstate 80 to 5 South. Then guess what?

LIGHTS AND SIRENS AGAIN.

"LEAVE ME ALONE! WHY WHY YOU LEAVE ME ALONE! IT'S NEVER GOING TO END! OMG IT'S NEVER GOING TO END! DIE! DIE! DIE!"

Second tiny little meltdown of the first 5 minutes of my drive.

It was great.

Then I went through all the things in my head that involve leaving my house and what am I going to do. Because clearly I am never leaving my house again. I am going back to being an agoraphobic and staying put. Yes. Genius.

I do the shoot, it's fine. I get foxtails and stickers all over my butt and legs and shoes and they hurt, so I break my diet for the first time in weeks and get an ice cream cone and a small fry and try to feel better.

I stay up until 5am making sure no one is coming back to my house to break in and begrudgingly allow the dog to poop 6 feet from the front door, an allowance he does not seem to appreciate, and he makes a second donation sometime after I fall asleep in the entry way. At least it was easy to clean up?

So, that's your back story. Now we are to Monday. The Day of Awesomeness. The Day of Fun. The Day I wanted to stab myself with teeny tiny little golf pencils for entertainment because THAT would have been MORE fun than what I did!

Like I said, I was up all night because I was afraid to sleep. Then I was too tired to go to kickboxing. (And too afraid to go anyway. Someone will probably either follow me from the house, OR break in while I'm gone and chop my cats into tiny little pieces.)

11:30am it's time to go to therapy. I hate this woman. She sucks.

I stall. I don't want to go. I am afraid to leave the house, and I am anxious. I don't want to listen to her cheerlead me about how I sent the Demand Letter. I need to talk about how deranged I am and how scared I am, but she sucks at that.

I finally leave at 11:50 or something and arrive about ten minutes late at 12:10pm and I did text her to let her know I was late. I dash out of the car and start to walk in when I see... to my horror....

There's a freaking MAN in the waiting room. What the heck? It's 10 after! All of the appointments should be in already!

As you know, I am afraid of men, I don't want to be touched, I don't want to be talked to, and I do NOT want you anywhere close to me. And this waiting room is tiny. Per usual, I stand outside. A minute passes, then 5. He's still there. I start to cry. I'm paying $35 an hour for therapy with this woman and I can't even go in because I'm being held hostage in the parking lot! This probably happens at least once out of our two sessions each week but usually whatever guy is in there is gone by 5 after. I've now been waiting 15 minutes in the hot parking lot, meaning we are 25 minutes PAST my appointment time.  My hysteria over being late, wasting money, the big white trucks that are the same make and model as Matt's that have now passed by twice are getting to me, plus the proximity to this man- I am overwhelmed. I start crying. I am crying, and pacing and panting about one door down from the office and totally lost as to what to do.

I have turned my back on the door and I am standing there, trying to take deep breaths and calm down. Think rationally. Call the therapist? Text her? Ask for help? What do I do? Can I go in the waiting room? Can I ask her to ask him to leave? Breathe.

Then I feel someone TAP ME ON THE FREAKING SHOULDER.

"Oh, hi! (HUGE SMILE) Did you get here for your appointment early too? I like to be early, How are----"

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Seriously. I ran away screaming. The man from the waiting room came out to where I was trying to fight off a panic attack ONE BUILDING DOWN, SNUCK UP BEHIND ME (what is he? the quiet walker on Seinfeld?) TOUCHED ME, and then talks to me like he's FLIRTING with me?

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

I ran like a bat out of hell!

I screamed and ran and hid behind the building across the way and had a full out panic attack and

HAVE NEVER FELT MORE INSANE IN ALL MY LIFE.

Thank you very much.

Then I slid down the 1970's textured wall that had little rocks and pebbles set into it, scratching my back all up so it bled and sat on the sidewalk and cried like a homeless mental patient.

I am so awesome.

Don't you just want to set me up with your brother, friend, or cute neighbor?  I am so cool and hip!

After I spent an additional 10-12 minutes crying/hyperventilating/coming off the panic attack, I sent a hysterical message to my therapist stating what happened and saying that IF I could get back to my car, I was leaving and going home.

I then peeped around the corner, saw no guy, made a run for it, unlocked the car while I ran, jumped in the car, and pealed out so bad that the tires SQUEALED. You know, like in the movies?

I think I drove over the curb trying to flee the Parking Lot of Horrors as well.

Stupid Incompetent Therapist (SIT) texted me to let her know when I got home. I sent her a MORE hysterical message saying I was NEVER going back to that place again and to cancel my appointment for tomorrow and that I was NO WAY IN HE** going back there because it was not safe, and what person in their right mind randomly approaches some woman outside of a psychiatric office in a parking lot? In 100 degree heat? Does this look like the time for The Bachelorette?

After that whacked out message, Miss SIT called me three times, which I did not answer. (Truthfully I could not hear the phone because 1.) It was on vibrate and 2.) I was heaving and sobbing too loudly and 3.) My car is kind of noisy.

When I got home I took a Xanax and a half and laid down and tried to go through my relaxation exercises that Jamie (previous therapist) taught me. I'm not very good at them, but I tried.

Then I got pissed off.

This thing with the guy in the waiting room (no idea if it's the same guy) happens EVERY week. I will arrive, and a man will be sitting in the waiting room. And I won't go in until he leaves. So I stand in the parking lot and wait until he gets called in for his appointment, and then I go in. So I am at least 5 to 10 minutes late EVERY SINGLE TIME even if I arrive on time. Or early. Because I won't go in if there is a man in there.

It has happened every week since I started seeing Miss SIT in April. It never happened with Jamie. It happened so often with SIT that she TOLD me she would be sitting in the office watching and waiting for whatever guy was out there (in the waiting room) to leave because she knew as soon as he did, I would magically appear.

Clearly, she was aware of the issue. I also had a panic attack leaving the office one day because a man was standing in the hallway on the way to the exit and I couldn't get past him without touching him. I started to cry and pant and she didn't do anything. The man saw what was happening and stepped into the administrative offices (he was a patient, looked like maybe for marriage counseling because a lady was there too) to get out of my way and I RAN past him, and then couldn't get out because another therapist was blocking the door!

SIT never addressed the incident at the time, or in our next meeting. We also never discussed or came up with a plan as to how to get me in the office when this happened or for how I could cope with these situations. Why was there not a contingency plan in place? Since she does the text thing, why couldn't I text her I was there and she come OUTSIDE and walk me in, so I could practice walking past the man? Or, teach me coping skills to learn to tolerate being in the waiting room? Why didn't we go out in the waiting room and practice being out there, since it's so uncomfortable?

With Jamie, I had big issues leaving the house, and I'd have panic attacks every time I did. The grocery store was a big problem and I wouldn't walk down an aisle if there was a man there. We went through these visualizations (that I hated) where I would picture the man, and then have to picture things to protect myself (she'd suggest a shield or sword or magic bubble, and I'd say, how about a snow jacket, and four pairs of pants and a shopping cart? I needed things to be real, albeit, impractical) We mentally boxed in scary men in stores with shelving units and locked them away behind security glass from the pharmacy department. We worked on breathing and distraction techniques and "You are safe." and all kinds of things.

Where was SIT in all of that? HUGE ISSUE, in the LOBBY of the THERAPY OFFICE, preventing me from GETTING IN TO MY APPOINTMENT? And we aren't TALKING ABOUT THAT?

Are you KIDDING ME?

I am pissed. I think this was inevitable. Of course this would happen! It was bound to! Not the exact scenario, but that something would happen and that I would freak out. And now what good did it do me? I'm NOT going back there, and I have no way to cope or deal with the situation should it come up again. Nice going, Stupid.

After the break at home and the Xanax I had my first physical therapy appointment for my knee, which I injured four+ years ago running, and basically have early osteoarthritis symptoms coupled with some runner's knee issues. I was late, went to the wrong building and got all wound up again, but I made it and I really like my PT and I let her touch me and do the session and it was OK. It helped that it was my lower body and not my chest or anything. That felt safer I guess.

Then I felt like I still needed to binge on something (I've been so good for so long, but yesterday was just... ARGH!) so I tried to get Cheetos at the Rite Aid across from the PT. NO CHEETOS IN THE ENTIRE STORE!!!! I couldn't believe it!

So I got Charlie a special squeaky toy he likes to play with at the park and had never been able to find anywhere to buy one of his own, and extra strength deodorant, because while at PT, I noticed I smelled rank. Perhaps from all the running and crying and squatting in alleys like a homeless person.

I stand in line for almost 10 minutes, it's my turn, I start to walk up, and a man darts in from the side and cuts in front of me and like 3 other people.

So I throw all my stuff on the floor (ok, in a basket) and stomp out.

ARGH!

And then I really fell off the sobriety wagon and bought hummus at Target on the way home. I just couldn't handle it anymore.