"You'll come running back to me..."
Things got a little ugly around here from the stress, I actually lost it, and finally went off like a naughty person. Ugly words were exchanged, but I made no apologies for my outburst that was building and coming for a long fucking time. I've been holding a lot of shit in to keep the peace, but had to let it out for FFS - finally - because I have my limits too. There was a moment as to which direction the heavy boots was holding, and that I was going to put on, were going to fly: in the direction of someone's head, or toward the area of a door. They pretty much hit the door, lucky for the spouse.
I can't remember throwing something that potentially painful, if you were on the receiving end, for a longass fucking time, so you can only imagine how many months to a year or so I've been letting things sort of slide. Partly letting them take their toll on a part of me, causing me depression, but at the same time, building up some fucking red hot motherfuckin' ugly, potentially violent, unpredictable. I say "potentially violent" meaning that the well-deserving provoking person's (i.e. the spouse) head could very likely or would become the target of some crazy object one can quickly grab and hurl without thinking.
Fortunately, for the "target", I am not only blind in one eye, and therefore have no depth perception, I'm nearsighted as fuck in the other, so it's unlikely anybody would get harmed except for me out of sheer embarrassment for missing by a long shot, and letting something stupid let me lose my composure. Well, at least I got an apology for ugly words that were exchanged without feeling guilty in the least. I felt I was in the right, so I was pleased and accepting of a fucking well-deserved apology for once in my fucking life.
After that incident, I learned later that the spouse really did show up for his doctor appointment, even though it was only a GP, but he'd made an appointment and later went to a counseling session. I'm guessing to talk more about me and my "issues" instead of manning up to his, but it's a start. I'll give him that. I was glad he went. It gave him a reason to talk about the shitty atmosphere around here lately. Since then, the heavy atmosphere of unneeded stress and worry has been lifted considerably.
My agoraphobia is really not agoraphobia anymore, I've decided. It's just anxiety. I managed to handle being in a crowd indoors at a Dias de los Muertos celebration earlier in the month, which was cool. Now I'm just dealing with this going out by myself a bit differently in my head. The feelings and sensations aren't as heavy and all-consuming that I have to totally over-medicate to push through. It's somewhat different, but impossible to explain. Still fighting the anxiety though, it's changed a bit. The ugly game has changed, and is not as ugly and gut-wrenching. But fuckin' A, I still keep my meds on hand just in case. :D I'm still crazy, not stupid!