Enter Psych Ward

I haven't, but maybe I should.

This weekend heaped more burning coals on the pile of ashes that is me. I feel more dead inside after Easter weekend than I should, what with knowing my Savior is resurrected and living in me.

My mother...needy as always, informed me that she's "Struggling with depression and things too," and tried valiantly to put me back in my place of her own personal armchair shrink.

Sorry, can't do it Ma.

Cold, unsympathetic? Perhaps.

Smart? Indubitably so.

Her beef was with our time distribution while we were in the wonder town of Craig for the holiday as she was considerably shortchanged. Some of this was her own doing, in choosing to spend most of the day on Saturday away at her new step-son's baseball game when she knew we were in town. Also factoring in, was the tendency of my IL's and Seth to consider activities beyond their realm of enjoyment. In otherwords, their planning usually doesn't carve out time for Seth and I to go visit my mother and listen to her "Woh-wa-Woh Wa-woh-wa-woh..." (That's supposed to sound like the Peanuts adults, btw) - and this leaves Seth feeling like he's missed out on something BIG with his family should he dutifully support me in visiting my familial purgatory....not quite hell, and definitely not heaven.

Insecure natural family + mostly together though somewhat dysfunctional in-laws = me in the middle....

Me in the middle + (mental instability caused by chemicals x overwhelming recent situational factors)/antidepressants = one pathetic me

One pathetic me + defensive begrudging Seth = Big Fight

Get the picture?

Then...

We get home yesterday with 15 minutes to spare before I have to be at work (consideration thing again) and my work environment is icy. I'm at a loss - don't know what else to do - have done my "corrective action" as laid out in my write-up by apologizing to all parties involved, who all think I'm nuts for making a big deal out of it. I go to the library and there is carpet installation stuff EVERYWHERE - they failed to communicate to us that this is STILL going on. Caterer is not there. Panic sets in - Not again!

Two commissioners arrive and one of them, a nice, practical woman who is dear to me, says, "How are you doing, dear?"

I tell her fine-as soon as I figure out where the caterer is.

Concerned, her brows furrow and she questions me about my blood pressure. She expresses she is worried about me.

My bp is fine, I have historically always had very low BP (other than when preeclamptic with LMNOB). It's my heart that's broken.

"You're not pregnant are you?"

"Oh, no, I have an IUD and the chances of that are slim to nothing." Honestly, I felt like I was now on the medical history microscope - analytical Ann just wanted to know the reason for my profuse apology last week, and thought a medical/psychological condition was the most logical reason why.

Maliciously, my mind started thinking of snide alternate answers.

Actually, if you must know, I'm ovulating right as we speak and my husband and I had sex twice this weekend at his parents' house, so you never know, eh?

No, I don't have anything physically wrong with me, I'm just an overemotional basket case.

Just tell the truth - without all the gory details.

"Actually, Ann, let me stop your speculating. If you must know the e-mail was precipitated by the disciplinary action I received because of the scheduling mishap." My lip trembled and I looked down, feeling my face go hot. "Now, I really have to go find that caterer's number - excuse me."

Deep breath in...

Long story short - the caterer goofed his schedule up and came up with a late and last minute attempt to rectify the situation. Everyone's oohs and aaahs indicated he was successful. I, however, felt it was one more ding on my record - despite having gotten the confirmation that this was completely out of my hands and bringing it back to the Boss. As she sat there, two commissioners lectured me about how I needed to let go of the events last week, that it really was ok.

I'm screaming inside.

I was sorry and going to e-mail everyone a "sorry for the inconvenience" e-mail, but the mea culpa you got instead was because I was MADE to send it! Tell HER it's ok, not me! I'm paying for it...paying for something that was "no big deal!"

I think the Boss may be enjoying this, and quickly put it out of my head - she's my friend, right?

The rest of the night goes without a hitch. I go to go home and am hit with the overwhelming pressures coming at me in all directions.

We're in the red - how are we going to pay for things? Is work ever going to get better? I'm a liability to everyone who matters right now - Seth, mother, the Boss, IL's, even my kids are getting a shabby mother at this point in life. I'm a screw-up. I used to help people like me - I'm a client. I'm losing it - totally over the edge losing it.

I listen to James Blunt's Tears and Rain (yeah, also on the cd from brother) on the way home, and nod along, knowing just how the lyrical writer feels. I sobbed all the way there....tired of feeling like everyone's problem that drags them down. I'm feeling like I need to go to the psych ward. I'm the crazy lady who's thinking of things she shouldn't be. Weighing the options. Do sane people even think like this?

Tell Seth about my night. He's mad at me. I got a ticket for speeding in January (I'd forgotten about it), hadn't told him, and now it's more b/c I didn't go to the court date. Bills saying we're behind came in the mail. He's trying to be caring, but he's worn out and angry about the money issues. Kids are put to bed.

I'm sitting there thinking about whether they'd be better if I were gone. It'd hurt and there'd be guilt and anger for awhile, but overall, they wouldn't have to deal with my craziness, my instability over the next lifetime. Would it be better for me to spend my life in hell to give them a chance at happiness on earth? No I can't do it. I'm a coward, and things hurt. I'm not given to cutting or hurting myself. I think about tylenol, knowing overdose of acetaminophen activates liver failure. I also know that alcohol and acetaminophen hurts the liver even more. But what if it doesn't work, and I'm a vegetable for the rest of my life- think of the irony with regards to feeling like a burden on people.

Seth's paging my name as I look aimlessly at the stove.

I can't tell him this - he doesn't understand. He thinks it's totally selfish, when instead, I'm thinking about everyone else. Back to normal. Sit and watch tv.

This morning, I called a friend, and told her some of my thoughts. Not the how's but more of the logic, my tiredness of being everyone's problem. I wasn't saying it like I'm going to go do something. At this point - I can't. How could I do that to my children? To Seth? But more just trying to gain understanding - I thought perhaps she'd understand...but apparently, I scared her. She called Seth at work after we hung up. Then he called me, telling me to promise him I wasn't going to hurt myself. Like I would do anything with my angels at home?!? I may be crazy, but I'm not that far gone. So now I'm on the loony watch. Every little thing I say is no doubt going to be scrutinized. Best not to talk, then eh?

I feel like an afterschool special...well, perhaps a Lifetime movie given my age. But nevertheless, misunderstood.