The Continuing Saga

I feel the need to have "the continuing saga" be a subtitle to this post, however, I can't think of how to succinctly describe my mortgage/renovation/bank fraud situation in one word. If only it was that simple.

Also, I apologize for the string of vulgarities in my recent posts and this current one... what can I say, that's how I feel. And how I talk about these situations in real life, so why sugar coat it in writing? It's not like this is a literary publication. So, caveat aside, I am beyond pissed. I've noted much of the craziness that has ensued the last 6 weeks, but Monday evening something really put my anger over the top despite my breakdown induced zen-like state. Reason 3,115 why I could never be a Buddhist. My husband was working late because he had 2 big projects to finish, so I was at home making dinner after walking the dogs. Generally minding my own business. Trying to get through yet another Monday. No big deal.

Well, I hear him stumbling with his keys at the front door and he walks in with steam coming out of his ears. I'm like "What on earth is going on?" He said, "Well, I just got off the phone with Stan [the contractor] and he basically threatened us."

"What?"

"Yep, I just spent the last hour on the phone with him where he proceeded to give me the run down how in the 'old days' contractors would have gone in and chainsawed out the cabinets and granite since they'd not be paid or barricaded us in our house with a truck bumper.' And how that's what some 'old guys' recommended that he do."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Nope. And he posted it as being a hypothetical past situation to which I responded, 'Yeah, it's good things have changed, huh?'"

"So, he essentially threatened us?"

"Basically, yes. He's trying to intimidate us into paying him."

At this point I think I uttered a "Let me talk to the motherf*ing wimp-assed b*tch if he thinks he's threatening us." (What can I say? We just finished the series finale of The Wire - also known as the BEST show ever made! - so I feel empowered to use my full range of Northern Wisconsin vulgarity when expressing my anger - without asterisks or abbreviations in the original version.) I promise to calm down with the swearing one of these days, but I doubt it will before this shithead is paid and out of my life for good. Did I also mention that we arranged a meeting a few weeks ago that my father-in-law graciously moderated so that Stan could do everything but get on his knees and beg us to give him some money? Now, why on earth would I put myself out on a financial limb for someone who doesn't even have an iota self-respect or business acumen. Really?

Now my husband is a little beside himself because he is so astonished by this line of attack. You see, at the end of the day, we can still instruct the bank to withhold a certain percentage of payment for up to 90 days to ensure no liens are placed on the property post payment. So, why on earth would you want to give us any reason to believe that you are 1. Completely desperate and 2. Threatening our property, lives, and financial stability? Is that really going to want us make us play nice?

Certainly not in my world. And, as my husband (and Eric the vampire in such situations in True Blood) responded, "I don't like threats." Okay, I had to throw in the bit about Eric because he's the only celebrity crush I've had in almost 5 years and it's a bad one. My husband knows this and understands... or at least deals with it because it's so silly and I'm rarely, if ever, silly in anything. So it's just kind of funny. Not at all serious, just something light-hearted in a life that seems to be filled with nothing but anger, frustration, and bad tidings lately. I like a fictional vampire like just like the other 80% of American women. Oh well. I will say that in Twilight I am thoroughly a Jacob supporter and am not a fan of Edward at all. Another guilty confession of my reading habits of late.

So, anyway, here we are. It's been insinuated that we should be on our guard if we don't pay up - even though if he wants to threaten someone it should really be the bank... we're not the ones withholding his money. Or better yet, take it up with FHA or HUD since it's a government-insured loan. I'm sure they'll be overly sympathetic to a contractor threatening their clients. Tuesday I worked from home because I just didn't feel good and in the early afternoon I saw a big navy blue truck pull up in front of my house. I looked at the guy driving and he proceeded to immediately turn around. Now, that certainly could have been someone who has nothing to do with me... our neighborhood can be slightly difficult to navigate if you've never been there. However, we're the first house on a corner of the street so typically people drive down to the circle at the end. Regardless, I had a really bad feeling about him and it only fueled my anger. Here's hoping I don't go home at lunch to find my kitchen torn apart with a chainsaw. Although the contractor apparently had someone talk him down yesterday because he sent us a much more calm email. We'll see. I'm skeptical. And PISSED. Don't forget that.

This worthless P.O.S. ruined my vacation, my moving/settling in process, my post-breakdown peaceful state, my ability to sleep through the night, and my ability to concentrate on important work that must get done. He has ruined the last month of my life and my ability to enjoy my new home. Now he is ruining my personal feeling of security.

And there's not a damn thing I can do about it other than consult my advisers. And rant here, so that's what I'm doing.

BREAKDOWN

Well, it finally happened. The thing I have been fearing my entire cognitive life: a mental breakdown. You see, my family has a long, strong history of mental issues - primarily although not limited to - debilitating depression. I have always tended toward being a slightly (to severely) depressed person with a strong side of anxiety. I distinctly remember being depressed when I was 6 years old although I certainly did not recognize my deep feelings of sadness and empathy at the time. After that, my emotional/psychological life has been a bit of a roller coaster. I have ups and downs, but mostly maintain a certain level of moroseness and sarcasm. I also am not a big fan of psychotropic drugs or counseling. I think these things can be very helpful to many people and am not inherently opposed. Yet, for myself, I would like to think there is a better option. At least as far as counseling/therapy goes. Why on earth am I going to spend hundreds of dollars to tell some stranger who's probably more crazy than me about my problems? My general disdain for people and their advice makes the prospect of this nauseating to me. And, if I want people to know my business, I tell them. Or post it on the Internet for the general masses for free. Obviously.

Well, I've been considering getting on some anti-anxiety drugs, or maybe anti-depressants, because I can't seem to get out of the funk that has been brought on by all the ridiculousness that has occurred in the last 3 years. It always seems like the minute I start digging myself out of my hole that a giant dump truck of manure unloads right on top of me, making the hole even bigger than it was originally. And more distasteful as well. This gets frustrating and makes me just want to go be a hermit in the woods and be left alone. I've not actually gotten around to seeing a doctor about this. I tried to bring it up once and my doctor just did not get it. He muttered something like "well, you should probably get some rest and see if that helps." Thanks buddy! Because I've never tried that one. Man, too bad that piece of advice cost me another $150. Granted, I was not as explicit as I should have been... this is where the anxiety comes in... I have anxiety about lots of things: making phone calls, my dogs hurting each other or being hurt by someone/something else, talking about medical problems, having a disease that has not yet been detected, money, confrontation, polluting my mind with bad TV shows or books, not doing the right thing all the time, thank you notes, cleaning bathrooms, taking advice, insects and snakes biting me, not being able to fall asleep, being paranoid about my various anxieties... the list goes on. However, it always flares up worst when I'm at the doctor's office. Every ounce of intelligence leaves my brain once I walk in the door of the clinic. My blood pressure sky rockets and I become a blubbering idiot. I know it's going to happen, but I just can't help it. So, you see, this leaves me in a bit of a predicament when trying to discuss the anxiety I am experiencing at that time. I'm hoping to overcome this when I go in for my physical this fall. Maybe I can write them a letter and bring it with me...

Anyway, back to the breakdown. See this has been building forever and adds fuel to the anxiety fire. I know I'm losing my grip, so I become anxious about "going crazy" and it makes everything ten times worse. And I take it out on my husband. EVERY SINGLE TIME. I suck as a human, or at least as a wife. Granted, there are bits of it that are deserved, but no one deserves to have a crazy-fest erupt on them at Category 5 Hurricane levels for neglecting to unpack boxes, plan a date, or walk the dogs.

Well, that's what happened last weekend. I completely lost it and went into a hysterical, raging fit. It lasted on and off for two days. It was also fueled my hormones being that time of the month. F*ing hormones.

I won't go into all the details... but I was a mess. I've never had a breakdown of that magnitude, but thankfully my husband talked me down several times and stuck with me instead of running out the door screaming, "Get away from me you crazy b*tch." Because that's what I would have done had someone behaved in such a way toward me. Or carted them off to the mental hospital.

However, the goods news is that I've never felt more liberated in my entire life. I now know that if I indeed have a mental breakdown that: 1. It will not destroy the rest of my life; 2. That sometimes you just need to get everything off your chest and if that means crying hysterically and uttering screams so loud and deep that you sound like an alien monster that's okay too. and 3. Life will go on. I've also learned certain things that are not okay to do during a breakdown. And, since I am a person who highly believes in etiquette, having some ground rules will greatly help me in the future. I still feel awful about the whole thing and especially how I treated my husband. That was not okay. Not at all. But sometimes you feel that desperate and need someone to understand that guttural feeling. And now I no longer have the fear that came with the unexpected "mental breakdown." I had one, it was messy and awful, but I survived and feel more peace than I have in years. Thank God, the desperation is now gone and I feel like I can again deal with life. It may not a pretty or easy life, but at least I'm regained some semblance of control. At least of my own thoughts and actions to effectively deal with it.

So, hopefully this lasts and will give me some better perspective which I think it will. I also think it has gotten me to a place where I can reasonably ask for help. I've not been there ever before. Pride really can be stupid and over-rated. Mental well-being cannot be over-rated enough.

Maybe now I can get back to societal ranting or other such fun things. Stay tuned to the events of my "normal" life. Ha. We'll see.