A tempest of turds

Today, I'll start with grateful, since I think I missed a couple of days in the midst of all the fecal-fan-flinging. I am grateful that Matt is home and safe, and that he gets a half-day off tomorrow that we can spend together relaxing. I am grateful that progress is being made on the homefront war-zone. I am grateful that I have at least one girly friend who can show me how to properly apply eyebrow makeup. I am infinitely grateful that I have a husband who is open and honest with me, who listens to my worries and concerns, and who compliments and congratulates me on my accomplishments. I'm thankful for air conditioning. I'm thankful for fizzypop incense, which is sparkly-green and smells like concentrated mischief.

But now, let's play a little game of "What is Morgan Feeling Right Now?"

I am feeling frustrated, to the point of anger.

My sister-in-law's wedding is in nine days. In Minnesota. I was just informed that we are leaving on Thursday and returning on Monday. A five-day odyssey for a wedding that will probably last about an hour. Oh, and by the way? The family had about three weeks to plan for this. Three weeks. Expecting everyone in the family to be able to front the money for plane tickets and hotels on three weeks' notice is, in my opinion, rude and presumptuous and generally ridiculous.

I admit that some of this fear is coming from the week-long panic episode I suffered (with no meds) the first time I went to a family wedding with Matt. It was three years ago now, before he and I were even engaged to be married. The entire trip was a nightmare for me. I didn't know anyone. I felt trapped. I was trapped in a car for hours, shuttled around to family functions, stuffed into an uncomfortable (but really sexy) dress and forced to endure a very formal, very Christian wedding, with all the typical upper-middle-class trappings. I don't have any indication that this wedding will be the same, but it's the same time of year, and it's in a place I've never been before. I don't know if I want to test myself with something so challenging quite so soon after a major panic event, medicated or not.

Look, I want to be there for the only sister I've ever had. I am genuinely happy for her and her fiance, even if I personally feel the wedding is a bit rushed (on multiple levels.) I would like to be there to support her. However, we have battles to be fought here, in our own home. We have exterminators, cleaners and carpet cleaners to schedule so that we can stay in our home without being harassed by the rental company. This stuff needs to be done ASAP, and as much as Matt and I need a vacation, this is definitely not the time to take one. Matt and I need to be home to get things scheduled, let people in, prepare for the exterminators, and figure out what to do with the cats. Matt has been traveling so often that it feels to me like a luxury to have him home for more than a week at a time, and I know he must be more exhausted than he's admitting.

Bottom line: I don't want to go to Minnesota for five days. I want to stay here and get shit done. Even if I did go, I would be worried about what's happening back at the apartment the entire time, since it seems the rental company will let exterminators or whomever into our apartment whenever they damn well feel like it even if we don't see their so-called "24-hour notice" until the next day.

If, by some chance, we can get all of this stuff taken care of before we are meant to leave for the wedding, I might feel better about it. However, places seem to like to schedule about two weeks out. And I don't want to deal with something the day after we get back, either. I know that I will be too exhausted from travel, to glad to be sleeping in my own bed (even if it does have bugs in it) to have the will to let a bunch of strangers into our home again. A five-day trip to Minnesota, at great cost to Matt's folks (gas, rental car, hotel), seems laughably impractical when, if there is money to spare, we need it for other things.

But this decision is not mine. I remember telling Alison that because of all of our medical bills and such that it might not be realistic for us to come, and she assured me that she was fine with that and would not take it personally. My honest opinion on the matter is that we should take her at her word, and pour our energies into taking care of our home, not planning a trip.

And then, there's the supposed trip to Norway in September. As it gets closer and closer to September, I am less and less convinced that it's going to happen. I think Matt's grandparents want to do this. I don't think they are looking at it realistically. We still have no dates, no details, and they seem to be waiting for Matt's uncle's health to improve before making plans. The thing is... his health may not improve. He may not be medically cleared to fly. And they don't want to leave him behind. There may be other issues, but from where I stand, that seems to be the major one. It's a touchy family subject that I do not want to stick my nose into, but at least I can get my opinion heard "through the grapevine."

I can talk to Matt, Matt can talk to his parents, and his parents can talk to their parents. And as unbelievably much as I want to see Norway, the land of my gods, I have similar travel anxieties with that trip as I do with the potential Minnesota trip. Stuck in an unfamiliar place, 8 people crammed in a car driving for hours and hours, getting to see what they want to see and hanging out with their old friends, but not actually getting any time to appreciate the place the way I want to. With Matt. And alone. So a thing that I was looking forward to has become yet another source of stress, primarily because of the lack of realistic plans and the fear that I will go completely insane in the absence of familiarity and time to myself.

I am feeling anxious.

Instead of shutting down yesterday, I sprang into action. I told Matt I was going to take a klonopin, lie down, and cry it out. Instead, I immediately got on the phone and started planning. I also cleaned the kitchen. Yes. I cleaned the damn kitchen. My back is killing me today, but whatever. I think that I have handled the stress better over the past couple of days than I would have just a few weeks ago. However, as it is with all who suffer from PTSD or anxiety disorders of any kind, I am dreading the inevitable crash. I kicked into crisis mode, which is kind of like manic without the mild euphoria. It's the kind of mindset you need for a job as an EMT or a firefighter. I've always had it in me. (Were it not for other factors, I might have ended up in a profession like that, but that's neither here nor there.) I'm actually kind of proud of my ability to switch into that mode when I'm really up shit creek. The downside is that there always comes a point when the adrenaline stops and I collapse from exhaustion. That has not happened yet, but the longer I'm "up", the closer it comes, and the worse it will be. Adjusting my meds may be helping a bit, though it's really too early to tell; I've been on the higher dose of lexapro for less than a week.

I am feeling completely overwhelmed.

I don't think I need to explain why.