I have a difficult personality. I stomp and scream when things don’t go my way. I’m volatile. So we fight. When are fights bad and when are they normal? I don’t know what’s right or wrong anymore. I want to get therapy. He thinks we’re fine.
I’m extremely stressed out. On Saturday, my tenant moved out. We did a walkthrough. We decided to have an HOA (Home Owners’ Assocation) meeting for my condo and ended up going to a notary for paperwork we’ve had since 2005 which unexpectedly added to my timeframe. The side mirror of my car was swiped. I couldn’t see out of the right-hand side. The seamstress underestimated my dress alteration and it was still too big.
She insisted, “That’s less than size 0. Scared, I make too tight.”
“Look,” I fumed, “my clothes fit the same as they always have. I’m not any skinnier than when you measured me. You did the measurements. This needs to be corrected today.”
I could tell she was about to ask for more money, but turned her head away in despair.
“This dress is falling right off of me! I’m coming back today at 5 o’clock and it better be fixed.”
My temper landed me a $53 parking ticket when I walked out of the dry cleaner store.
On top of that, Dean and I had gotten into a fight the night before. I didn’t sleep. We’re fighting. I’m sleep-deprived and stressed out of my mind.
I had a meltdown. I sobbed inconsolably as I listened to a segment on NPR about people who disappear off the face of the earth, people who fake their own deaths.
Can I do that? Can I go away for a little bit? Is Burning Man the vacation I need? I need to disappear for a while.
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