Better living through chemistry
Jan. 12th, 2004 10:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jeriendhalI've been off my anxiety pills for almost two weeks now, having managed to procrastinate refilling my perscription, and then discovering I've managed to lose my bloody perscription.
Turns out, I really need the little bastards. Coming home Friday I misjudged when coming off the entrance ramp, and had serve onto a curb at about 50 mph. Scraped the underside of my car nicely, and I managed to get home before I discovered that I'd apparently, at minimum, cut the fluid line for the power steering. Repairs for which are likely be expensive, for an eight year old car that I've already paid at least $1500 in the past 60 days to keep operational.
Steve was pissed off at me, because I'd damned near killed him since the front seat belt wasn't working and if I'd hit anybody his body would have gone through the windshield. Tracy was pissed at me because we had to dip into our home equity loan after the last round of engine repairs, and we still haven't paid that off, and now we're going to have check our finances to see if we shouldn't just get a new used car. I was pissed at me because I didn't have the brains to ask Steve to drive us home, even though I'd only four hours of sleep the night before, and basically brought all of this down on myself.
So I follow Thomas as he toddles around the basement that evening, basically feeling sorry for myself while I made sure he didn't kill himself climbing onto Steve's work bench. Tracy comes in to check on me, and I burst out crying, like I hadn't done since her father died almost three years ago. I sobbed like a baby, while she tried to calm me done before Thomas got upset over Daddy crying. I hate losing control like that, though it made Tracy happier that I wasn't trying to swallow down my feelings like I usually do.
But the upshot is that I'm convinced now that I really do need those damned pills.
Turns out, I really need the little bastards. Coming home Friday I misjudged when coming off the entrance ramp, and had serve onto a curb at about 50 mph. Scraped the underside of my car nicely, and I managed to get home before I discovered that I'd apparently, at minimum, cut the fluid line for the power steering. Repairs for which are likely be expensive, for an eight year old car that I've already paid at least $1500 in the past 60 days to keep operational.
Steve was pissed off at me, because I'd damned near killed him since the front seat belt wasn't working and if I'd hit anybody his body would have gone through the windshield. Tracy was pissed at me because we had to dip into our home equity loan after the last round of engine repairs, and we still haven't paid that off, and now we're going to have check our finances to see if we shouldn't just get a new used car. I was pissed at me because I didn't have the brains to ask Steve to drive us home, even though I'd only four hours of sleep the night before, and basically brought all of this down on myself.
So I follow Thomas as he toddles around the basement that evening, basically feeling sorry for myself while I made sure he didn't kill himself climbing onto Steve's work bench. Tracy comes in to check on me, and I burst out crying, like I hadn't done since her father died almost three years ago. I sobbed like a baby, while she tried to calm me done before Thomas got upset over Daddy crying. I hate losing control like that, though it made Tracy happier that I wasn't trying to swallow down my feelings like I usually do.
But the upshot is that I'm convinced now that I really do need those damned pills.
