Sabotage

I'm not even sure when my last post went up. 
I went to the shrink and he said

Holy fuck you are crazy.  Take  these pills 3x a day and call me in two weeks.

Which is awesome.  But I feel like a zombie.  I'm not freak ing out so much anymore but I still want to and I can't make myself care enough to.  So I cry alot.

Also last night my 20 year old teddy bear somehow made it from Girls room into my bed and I don't remember a thing.  Hubs swears I went and got it.

And my boss threatened to fire me.

All of this is to explain that I haven't figured  out when/where to blog yet.  I pass out almost as soon as I get home from work and I'm scared to blog at work even on my personal laptop because my boss hates me.  And the autocorrect on my phone is kicking my ass.

And just on a sidenote, Boy has decided he doesn't want Sir Liesalot's last name even though he was adopted by him.  Boy wants to keep Reformed Commitmentphobic's last name.  And since we never actually changed his social security card, technically his last name never changed, we just started calling him Boy Liesalot.  Sir is not pleased.  Reformed is graceful enough to not openly rejoice.

And I have to change all of Boy's paperwork back to Boy Commitmentphobic.

What does a nervous breakdown feel like?

Shrink Etiquette

Let me preface this by saying that I have been to therapy before.  However, the other times I have been to therapy it was as half of a couple - with my mother as a teenager with Sir LiesAlot at the end of my first marriage, with Boy after Sir LiesAlot fucked him up.

I've never been to therapy by myself.  And next week I have an appointment with a shrink all by myself.

I'm terrified.

I have no trouble talking.  And while I do talk about myself alot, it's not really in depth or real.  That makes no fucking sense.

I like to talk - even though I sound like a blithering idiot most of the time.  And I have no problem telling you that I'm crazy or relating all the crazy ass shit that I do.  But the why - I don't like talking about that shit.  Partially because I don't know and/or understand why.  And partially because anyone who is actually crazy - I'm not talking about really, really weird, or very, very angry - I'm talking about actually insane - has a very painful and not conversation material reason as to why they are arsenic in the cookies unhinged.

So now that I have to go see this shrink alone, I'm trying to figure out how the hell this shit works.  

Do I just walk in and say - 

Hello Dr.!  I'm 30 years old, my husband's disabled, my exhusband is verbally abusive, I have 2 children, Girl is great but Boy gets bullied by my exhusband.  We all live with my mother who may or may not have abused me when I was a child - and I say that because my sister seems to think that our childhood looked alot like The Hunger Games, but I don't actually remember our childhood, so she could be full of shit.  My father is dead and that's awesome because he was a real dickwhistle and did abuse me as a child.  My family doesn't actually like me and I have spent the better part of the last 30 years pretending to be stable and normal when I'm around them.  But my husband is awesome and my son's father's parents are fabulous and they all love me even though I'm crazy.

I made this appointment because my husband is starting to get worried and he would really like me to be medicated - I would just really like to not think that the Canadians are going to invade and eat everyone's brains.

Nevermind.  Now that I've read that - I think perhaps I will stick with answering his questions.  Because we really can't afford for me to be committed.