Silk posted a link to an excellent article about making sure your ratty lender knows YOU know how things should be done. It stinks that this has to be so.
Still, I think I want to get my mortgage away from the big rats and will try to get with the local little rats. It's not quite Bedford Falls Savings and Loan but it's close enough.
------------
Sam
I think Sam has gone. It has been a week since I've seen him. The last time I saw him, he was crouching over a bowl of food in the driveway. I got as close to him as I could without freaking him out. I edged my hand out and let him sniff my finger. Maybe that was such a harrowing experience for him that he never came back, but I think the truth is sadder than that. For what it's worth, I think I helped him make it through two more months than he would have otherwise and dined quite well.
Must admit, I had a horror of coming home and finding him dead in the driveway.
-------------
Buster and Co.
The little fuzzy peach kitten was by this morning, looking both scared shitless and demanding, where the hell is my food, wench? Also seen lately: A black tail disappearing around the hedges. Another kitten? Or Buster? Buster has been spotted and so has Lily.
----------------
The Horrible Incident
A week ago last Sunday, there was nearly a Horrible Incident here. Please excuse me if I don't go into detail. It shames me, which I didn't think was possible. The possible consequences were so horrific that I knew I had to get away from the cats somehow, someway. The only thing I could think to do was take enough clonazepam to knock me out for most of the day.
I saw Dr. Yeow yesterday and was fully expecting a stern lecture about abusing my meds. But he didn't. When I told him about the Incident That Almost Happened, he said, "I think that was one wise course of action to take." And then he fiddled with my meds. I have to say, I'm more mellow today than I have been in quite a while.
Dr. A called me last night and chastised me for not calling her cell phone. I told her that it seemed like an invasion of her privacy. She said, "That's why I gave it to you - for you to call me when something like this happens. We may be able to work on this problem immediately instead of you suffering for a week until you can see me."
I told her what happened and she said, "I can see why that scared you so badly. But what was it about it that caused such a strong reaction in you?"
I said because if The Horrible Incident had actually happened, even that amount of rage without the follow through, was much too scarily like something my mother would do.
Dr. A said, "But you didn't do it, did you? You stopped yourself. You took steps to make sure everyone was safe. Would your mother have done that?"
No. She wouldn't have.
It's going to be an expensive week because Dr. Yeow and Dr. A are out of network. But it's so very much worth it.
-------------------
Will You Be My Friend?
I very briefly belonged to an online service called "Dating4Disabled". You didn't have to have a disability to join. I joined and had some nice online conversations with men - in England and Scotland. (See? I'm telling you, I don't belong here.) Anyway, when I went through the "matches", I would laugh darkly at the people who had listed their disability as schizophrenia or bipolar disorder. "Heh heh, good luck, nut job," I would say.
And now I am a nut job. I can't say I like it, although it does feel like the truth is out. In a way, it's a terrible truth because some of the symptoms I've been having turn out to be related to bipolar disorder and they aren't the kind of things that go away.
Automatically in the discard pile. I know I've been lonely lately. That stinking Joe Dubois. But not enough to set myself up for rejection yet again. Yet.
Showing posts with label anger. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anger. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 01, 2012
Thursday, February 24, 2011
All in All, I Think I Took That Rather Well
My recruiter called me this morning and told me my last day at Big Finance will be 3/9. Imagine my surprise. I thought it was supposed to be 3/31. Well, I've known for a while that BF will do this, just chuck you off the deck into the briny deep. Still, it's always a shock when it happens to you (me).
I don't know why, but I began leaking tears. Then again, I wore makeup today for the first time in ages and I'm allergic to some kinds of makeup.
Mostly, I was angry. I was really, really angry.
And how agonizing is it to hear Tinkerbell discussing me with Tink Jr just across the cube wall? This was another good reason to plug into Pandora all day and pretend like I couldn't hear anything.
I have an interview tomorrow. I'm taking the day off work.
My recruiter said she's shipping my info out to anything likely. Oh, and how is Valley Forge, PA for me? It's 1 1/2 hours each way, 80+ miles, that's how Valley Forge is for me. Still. If a girl has to, a girl has to.
I thought of coming home and having a glass of wine, but decided no, it might be hard to stop. I think my big indulgence will be two Lindt truffles instead of one.
I learned a couple of years ago that a big wailing boo-hoo sob fest gets me a whacked-on-the-side-of-the-head-with-a-baseball-bat headache. So I suppose that why I leaked.
That and the fact that I am angry at myself and I am so, so angry at Tinkerbell.
I wish I could beat her up. I wouldn't of course. I just wish I could. I'll probably beat myself up instead. Whee.
My recruiter will be gone the fateful week. It turns out that her son is a little person and is having major leg surgery in hopes to align leg growth. She has other things to worry about than me.
And so it goes.
I don't know why, but I began leaking tears. Then again, I wore makeup today for the first time in ages and I'm allergic to some kinds of makeup.
Mostly, I was angry. I was really, really angry.
And how agonizing is it to hear Tinkerbell discussing me with Tink Jr just across the cube wall? This was another good reason to plug into Pandora all day and pretend like I couldn't hear anything.
I have an interview tomorrow. I'm taking the day off work.
My recruiter said she's shipping my info out to anything likely. Oh, and how is Valley Forge, PA for me? It's 1 1/2 hours each way, 80+ miles, that's how Valley Forge is for me. Still. If a girl has to, a girl has to.
I thought of coming home and having a glass of wine, but decided no, it might be hard to stop. I think my big indulgence will be two Lindt truffles instead of one.
I learned a couple of years ago that a big wailing boo-hoo sob fest gets me a whacked-on-the-side-of-the-head-with-a-baseball-bat headache. So I suppose that why I leaked.
That and the fact that I am angry at myself and I am so, so angry at Tinkerbell.
I wish I could beat her up. I wouldn't of course. I just wish I could. I'll probably beat myself up instead. Whee.
My recruiter will be gone the fateful week. It turns out that her son is a little person and is having major leg surgery in hopes to align leg growth. She has other things to worry about than me.
And so it goes.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Weekend Roundup 4
Roving around the Amazon
I'm reading a riveting book, The Lost City of Z. It's nonfiction, about "Colonel" Fawcett, intrepid explorer of the Amazon. He was the first European to dig into the Amazon with an anthropological slant.
He nearly died on an expedition when they'd desperately left behind most of their food. There was nothing to eat - or so they thought - and he joined the "Amazon is a green hell" club. Later, he learned how to approach the Indians there. Verrry, verrrry carefully.
And what happened to Colonel Fawcett? Nobody living knows for sure, although it's likely that he was murdered by Indians. Did he find El Dorado? Maybe.
The fantastic thing to me is how for centuries, no one believed the natives of South America capable of sustaining a large civilization. I suppose they completely forgot that the Europeans had walked in on those broad stone boulevards leading to the many cities, covered with all kinds of fatal germs that killed off most of the population.
This is a ripping good yarn. Two thumbs up.
I also have a book waiting for me on Teddy Roosevelt's rumble in the jungle, his 1914 expedition to the Amazon. He didn't finesse it as well as the Colonel, but then again, he did manage to make it out alive.
---------------
Dylan, Dylan, Dylan, Dylan
He's sitting on the desk right now, giving himself a much-needed bath. He's 99% recovered from his illness and is more than ever the cat I love. He's gone back to a lot of his old habits - cuddling up with me at night, finding me in the morning, jumping on me and demanding affection. This is the Dilly of old and I can't believe how much I missed him.
I also realize guiltily that Katy had been sick for much longer than I initially thought.
Other cats act a little freaky when there's a dying cat in their midst.
But everybody's pretty much back to usual now. Boris wants up on the counter in the morning. Gus finishes his breakfast and sits next to the couch going meowmeowmeow until I go over, pick him up and we do Gussy Cuddle Time.
It's good.
-----------------------------
I make the NY Times
I commented as "Nikki".
http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/08/19/your-open-house-horror-stories/?scp=1&sq=open%20house&st=cse
-------------------
Angry? Moi?
I'll probably be writing about this some more.
I have finally acquiesced to WolfWoman's diagnosis of me as an angry person.
A couple of weeks, I was talking about the rusted-shut iron box I lugged around with me. Pondering over the last couple of days, I solved the mystery. What's inside it is all kinds of anger, rage, and fury. And as it turns out, it was not as tightly sealed as I had thought.
Rest easy in the fact that I do not believe in the "go ahead and let it all explode! Get it out there!" school of thought. Now that I see it, I realize that throughout my life, it's been shooting out fireworks and stars and bullets. But now that I see it, I hope I will be better able to control it.
Yes, of course, I bought a couple of books about it. It isn't real unless there's a book about it in the house.
So far as I understand it, anger is (among other things) what happens when my expectations don't match what can reasonably be expected and what does happen.
I know that there are people who are addicted to anger, who like to pick fights, who don't care who they hurt as long as they get that adrenaline rush. My mother was that kind of person.
Conversely, despite hurting people and scaring the living hell out of them, she still expected people to love her. She needed a lot of loving but had managed to sabotage herself to the point where only people with tranquilizer guns would get near her. It makes me feel sorry for her.
What I haven't run into yet is an examination of baby rage. I imagine that I started to be really angry when I was less than a year old, because I think I was probably pretty scared most of the time. My parents split up when I was less than a year old and I have no doubt that I was a silent witness to a lot of loud fights and arguments.
Lots and lots to think about on this one. What I have learned is that exercise and meditation are good at releasing anger and also help keep it from even turning into anger.
Yep. Lots to think about on this one.
I'm reading a riveting book, The Lost City of Z. It's nonfiction, about "Colonel" Fawcett, intrepid explorer of the Amazon. He was the first European to dig into the Amazon with an anthropological slant.
He nearly died on an expedition when they'd desperately left behind most of their food. There was nothing to eat - or so they thought - and he joined the "Amazon is a green hell" club. Later, he learned how to approach the Indians there. Verrry, verrrry carefully.
And what happened to Colonel Fawcett? Nobody living knows for sure, although it's likely that he was murdered by Indians. Did he find El Dorado? Maybe.
The fantastic thing to me is how for centuries, no one believed the natives of South America capable of sustaining a large civilization. I suppose they completely forgot that the Europeans had walked in on those broad stone boulevards leading to the many cities, covered with all kinds of fatal germs that killed off most of the population.
This is a ripping good yarn. Two thumbs up.
I also have a book waiting for me on Teddy Roosevelt's rumble in the jungle, his 1914 expedition to the Amazon. He didn't finesse it as well as the Colonel, but then again, he did manage to make it out alive.
---------------
Dylan, Dylan, Dylan, Dylan
He's sitting on the desk right now, giving himself a much-needed bath. He's 99% recovered from his illness and is more than ever the cat I love. He's gone back to a lot of his old habits - cuddling up with me at night, finding me in the morning, jumping on me and demanding affection. This is the Dilly of old and I can't believe how much I missed him.
I also realize guiltily that Katy had been sick for much longer than I initially thought.
Other cats act a little freaky when there's a dying cat in their midst.
But everybody's pretty much back to usual now. Boris wants up on the counter in the morning. Gus finishes his breakfast and sits next to the couch going meowmeowmeow until I go over, pick him up and we do Gussy Cuddle Time.
It's good.
-----------------------------
I make the NY Times
I commented as "Nikki".
http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/08/19/your-open-house-horror-stories/?scp=1&sq=open%20house&st=cse
-------------------
Angry? Moi?
I'll probably be writing about this some more.
I have finally acquiesced to WolfWoman's diagnosis of me as an angry person.
A couple of weeks, I was talking about the rusted-shut iron box I lugged around with me. Pondering over the last couple of days, I solved the mystery. What's inside it is all kinds of anger, rage, and fury. And as it turns out, it was not as tightly sealed as I had thought.
Rest easy in the fact that I do not believe in the "go ahead and let it all explode! Get it out there!" school of thought. Now that I see it, I realize that throughout my life, it's been shooting out fireworks and stars and bullets. But now that I see it, I hope I will be better able to control it.
Yes, of course, I bought a couple of books about it. It isn't real unless there's a book about it in the house.
So far as I understand it, anger is (among other things) what happens when my expectations don't match what can reasonably be expected and what does happen.
I know that there are people who are addicted to anger, who like to pick fights, who don't care who they hurt as long as they get that adrenaline rush. My mother was that kind of person.
Conversely, despite hurting people and scaring the living hell out of them, she still expected people to love her. She needed a lot of loving but had managed to sabotage herself to the point where only people with tranquilizer guns would get near her. It makes me feel sorry for her.
What I haven't run into yet is an examination of baby rage. I imagine that I started to be really angry when I was less than a year old, because I think I was probably pretty scared most of the time. My parents split up when I was less than a year old and I have no doubt that I was a silent witness to a lot of loud fights and arguments.
Lots and lots to think about on this one. What I have learned is that exercise and meditation are good at releasing anger and also help keep it from even turning into anger.
Yep. Lots to think about on this one.
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