The worst blows are those that seem to come from nowhere. I don't know what happened so just take your pick.

I'm distraught by bedtime panic and the sick dread of nightmares. I thought that they had moved on.

I am so afraid to fall asleep that I may have to find a hidey to curl into. Elm Street has nothing on whatever bastard is lurking around in my subconscious - ready to attack.

I'm suspecting that this is related to today's frequent visits to bathroom stall #1 to secretly unleash tears that come from a hidden primal closet somewhere in the back of my walls.

In any event, I made an appointment with the professional tomorrow so I will miss work and catch the wrath for that but I figure it is better than the gastric lavage I seem to be headed for.

The ache of it throbs from each shoulder up through my tight and knotted neck leaving my jaw stiff and my eyes about to explode from the pressure.

Cruel that we escape only to return. Has my head not endured enough? The girl lying next to me just stares. She's been through worse - they all have and frequently remind me of it because I still don't seem to get it.

I don't think the cats see them. No one does because they all want me to die. They throw reflective listening crap in my face as if they were any good at it to begin with. Their resignation to my self-destruction has deeply set in but I have nowhere else to turn so there is nothing I can do.

Dirty Tiles

I am on the bathroom floor staring at pill bottles. The apartment has been trashed and I have no memory of it. I am in allot of pain. My neck & jaw & back hurt so much that I want to die. This is the worst time of the year for fibro but I don't know that is why I am having pain. I've done the worksheets. I've come up with my own assignments but these are no good. Nothing works.

After I first escaped from the parents and started to recover I had a reoccurring feeling regarding the torture from the mother -- how embarrassing and painful to matter so little as a human being that I could be discarded in such a manner. How could I have NOT blamed myself.

No matter what therapy I do, I just repeat it. disregarded, trashed, etc.

No one has ever wanted me around for very long unless they need something. My ex-husband is glad I am gone and is better off. I am glad he is doing well but I shamefully admit that I would like to be worth enough to be missed by him; though, that is why I left, correct? I have learned to want myself around. This took a long time but I had hoped this would be enough but I screw so many things up. My life and my environment are in such disarray that I wonder if perhaps I should have been locked away.

Sunday-Before-Work-Monday-Anxiety

I have the Sunday-Before-Work-Monday anxieties.

First, there was the loss of health insurance which resulted in the "high-deductible health plan" (HDHP) which caused me to for-go multiple health treatments.

Second, the office had to be relocated an extra hour away so that my daily commute has been AT LEAST two hours a day.

Third, we were informed that due to the drastic budget-cuts of ALL our corporate customers, matching 401K has ceased to exist, we have all had to take a significant pay cut, AND we now have to pay all premiums that go along with our HDHP. Now I cannot afford the physical therapy prescribed for a pinched nerve in my neck and am trying to make due with online exercise tips and generic Massage Envy.

Currently, we are continually getting emails to let us know that a cut in staffing is coming soon. Ironically enough, I had been getting 3-4 phone calls a week from recruiters offering me interviews; that is, until our local market became saturated with unemployed IT workers laid off from multiple businesses - the latest being our no-longer-really-local brewery.

So ... I'll be spending all my spare time this week updating my web site, resume, and studying for that one last exam that will upgrade my certification.

“This country was the moral leader of the world until George Bush became president.” -- Howard Dean.