Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Seven days.

I started to write this blog earlier but got sidetracked. Just like any other day, I guess. I am trying not to think about this MASSIVE move as MASSIVE, but the epic proportions of my decision always comes back full circle and I freak out. I’m more anxious than I think I’ve been in a year. I’ll sort out my woes for you.

I have a list of things that need to be done, and I have actually done pretty well and closed up shop on most of it. My stress now is, what if I miss something? Just today I remembered that all of my Christmas ornaments (I get a special one every year) are at my grandpa’s. What if they all get accidentally thrown away? There are about six boxes I brought to my mom’s house where we are staying and I have yet to go through them. I need to re-arrange the stuff in my luggage. The airport dealey with liquids messed it all up when the only thing left to pack was my check-on bag- with ALL MY TOILETRIES. On the bright side, I got myself a little treat and will be expecting a new Paul Frank backpack at my door tomorrow. At least with that I can put my laptop, camera, purse stuff, passport, etc. in it and will have it with me at all times. I’ve done really well with selling all my extra crap, and I told my parents just to sell the rest at their next yard sale. Today was going to be THE DAY when I tidy up all of my stuff, but I was up last night crying so hard from stress I woke up with a migraine. Oh, and I’m losing like tons of hair. Bleh.

My next stress is my peoples. What if I don’t get to say goodbye to everyone? My fear is I won’t get to say goodbye and BAM they die (see “Letting Go, Part One” for further elaboration of my anxieties). This sounds awful, but I have no interest in seeing my dad before I leave. I’d rather just assume good things and go on my way. My dad will be 61 next month, and I don’t know when I’ll be coming back to visit. I plain just don’t want to see him. I’ve thought to myself, “would I kick myself if something bad DID happen to him and I never got to spend time with him?” and sadly, my answer is probably not. The image of my “good” dad hasn’t been true for a long, long time and every time I throw him a bone he fails. In the beginning of the year he broke up with his total bitch of an ex-girlfriend, moved around the corner into my grandparent’s house, and started attending AA again. I was really proud and excited for him. For about a day. One day my car window broke and it was supposed to rain the next day. I thought, “gee, my handy dad lives right next to me now! He’ll fix it!” I called him at about 4p.m. and it sounded like he had just woken up. “Hi dad! I have a problem! My car window just broke on me and I was hoping you could fix it because I---“ “Uh…I’ll call you back, okay?” He never called back.

Another fear is I WILL get to see everyone and I’ll be so anxious that I won’t enjoy my time with them. My sister is throwing me a 30th birthday/going away party, and to be honest I am surprised how many people are coming. Is it because it’s a party? Free food? Free booze? What if they see me after this long of a time and I’m disgusting to them? My social anxiety is still very strong. On top of that, a couple of my acquaintances who weren’t invited are coming with somebody else. What if they cause a scene? What if I’m so anxious at the party that I can’t relax? The last time I had a group of people around me was my pre-wedding dinner almost two years ago, and thank God I ended up getting drunk. I almost lost it (my mind, not my liquor). This time though, with the antidepressants and mood stabilizers, I’m extremely anxious to drink. What if I pass out? What if it doesn’t mix and I freak out? A lot of my friends who I haven’t seen in over a year will be there, and I’m scared they will see the person I’ve become and just not want to be my friend anymore. My light is gone. The person who is always warm and fuzzy and sticking their neck out for them no longer exists. Now there is a shell of a girl who is unbelievably fat, penniless, and sad.

Next comes the realization that in seven days, everything is going to change. Everything. Time. Food. Family. Money. Counting. Driving. Spelling. Climate. Jobs. Mannerisms. Culture. The list goes on and on. Now, I am the Queen of Starting Over, so a lot of these things I see as a great positive. I just also see my present self getting in the way. My in-laws have pledged to help us financially until we get situated. That’s extremely generous of them and I am eternally grateful. The thing is, I’ve never had anyone (except for my own family) pay my way. No boyfriends, no help from friends. Just me. And I’m very proud of it. After a bankruptcy and steady jobs, I have built up a good, healthy credit standing. Now in a foreign country that’s all wiped away. I didn’t think I would have to start over again at 30. Where’s my house? My career? My school diploma? My two kids and a dog? I have none of it. I’m moving in with someone’s parents (something I have never done) and I happen to be bipolar. How am I supposed to deal with that in front of strangers? I feel I have no safe zone anymore, and even writing that down brings me to tears.

Okay, I just took an Ativan. Kick in please. Some peoples’ motto is “one day at a time”. I can’t even deal with that. When I get stressed or upset just one time in a day, the whole day is ruined. I can’t salvage it. I just shut down and hope things will get better eventually. It has almost been a year since everything fell apart, and I feel worse off now than I did last year. How is that even possible?


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