On the edge of sanity

The past few weeks have really done a number on me, emotionally, physically and mentally. I hate the way I have been feeling for the past few weeks. Dealing with my Grandfather's health, he is much better now, I am happy to report. He was released last Wednesday to go live with my Aunt and Uncle. Going through that and all that it entails, was tough. Then Labor Day weekend and that damn phone call. I re-live that phone call every night. I hate it. It scares me, I HATE it does not even encompass how much I feel towards it. Anxiety is at an all time high. I don't get a break from it, I come to work and am put back in the place where we all worked and spent 9+ hours of our days together. I am angry for her actions that I discovered after she was gone. I am angry for my other employee taking advantage, I am angry that I have to be a boss and I cannot curl up into the corner and cry. I want to grieve. The grieving has been thrown so off course. I got the reports I needed for the insurance paperwork. I read them, re-live the experience all over again. I learn more, it makes me unhappy, angry, and pissed off. My trust was violated, I feel like I was played as a fool. Makes me wonder, was she really my friend or was she laughing behind my back. I want to think only good things and happy things but I am de-railed and hurt.

And life goes on. I feel like I am barely keeping afloat. I am gasping for breath and feel an overwhelming feeling of not going to make it. I HATE being weak, I hate not just being able to "deal with it." To move on. I read the reports I see the accident on the paper, see the diagram, see where she hit with such force in her chest that her SHOES CAME OFF HER BODY!!! They were feet away from where she landed. She was not of "sound" mind to be driving. DAMN IT!!! Your an adult act the fuck like one. Do not endanger someone else's life with your stupid ass thinking you will be fine, it cannot happen to me. BULLSHIT! To read that the only thing in your stomach was 330ML of a yellow liquid. To read that your BAC was .13%. It just makes me so damn mad. So mad that I HATE YOU. I hate that I am missing you, I cannot make you accountable for your actions. I hate that I am trying to deal and it is your stupid ass shit that I am dealing with and cleaning up. FUCK YOU!

I really cannot deal anymore. I had to make a call. I told my Dear Sweet husband that I do not deserve that I needed help. So, yet again in my life I make the call to get some help. If I do not take Tylenol PM each night I cannot sleep. I am worried and scared. I worry that I will never be able to sleep without help again, then I get anxiety, then I start to think of everything at work I need to do or make sure is getting done. I then am in a full panic mode, mind you it is 9 PM and I cannot do anything about it anyway. But I worry and I freak and I stress. So, I take the Tylenol PM to sleep and I do. Then we start all over again the next day. So, now the countdown begins, until I get to see the good old head doctor again. It is either this, or Syd will have to deal without Mommy for a few days while she really does try to put the damn marbles back into her head. They are just about to spill out all over the floor. I so do not want to totally lose it.