About a week ago I decided that I had been sad enough, for long enough, and was having enough anxiety attacks over silly things that probably I should talk to a feelings doctor about pharmaceutical options to make me a more functional human being. So I called my psychiatrist's office to request an appointment and got a call back letting me know that my beloved doctor had retired two years ago. Disappointed, but determined, I asked to see one of his former partners instead. "It's been five years since you were seen at this group, so we consider you a new patient, and we aren't accepting any new patients with the current caseload being what it is and the holidays approaching. This is a really bad time of year to be looking for a new psychiatrist and we don't know of any who ARE accepting new patients," the office person said. I asked what they suggest I do, and they said to call my Primary Care Physician and see if they knew of anyone or were willing to take a stab at helping me themself. WAY TO HELP ME WITH MY ABANDONMENT ISSUES AND CHRONIC FEELINGS OF NOT BELONGING, ASSHOLES!
So I did set up the first available appointment with my GP, and then all hell broke loose. I got a ticket for expired tags. The Roommate needs a state ID to get a job, but needs his birth certificate and a copy of our marriage license to prove to the state that he is who he says he is, and those two documents were last seen in the same envelope, which is LOST. To get a copy of the marriage license we have to go to the local courthouse, which is crawling with cops, and to get a copy of the birth certificate I as his wife (or else his mother as his mother) have to present a valid ID and proof of relation (in my case the marriage license, in her case HER birth certificate, which is also lost), IN THE ARCTIC TUNDRA, IN PERSON. The MFA Minivan won't make the trip, but to afford a vehicle that WILL we need for The Roommate to be working.
It's a bureaucratic nightmare of a circlejerk of documentation, and between life in general, paperwork angst, the minivan and its attendant costs and tickets, and every other goddamn thing, last night my shaky mental health was really put to the test when The Roommate took suddenly, violently ill. I wasn't sure the minivan would make it to Local Teaching Hospital and sent him away in an ambulance, and they hydrated him and decided he most likely had food poisoning (no one else here is sick, and the only thing he had that the rest of us didn't was a coffee at Starbucks before his job interview yesterday) but didn't have to stay.
Picking The Roommate up was a nightmare in and of itself featuring a crazed old security guard (or maybe he was a bum in a jacket with patches on) who didn't want me to pick The Roommate up in front of the ER and followed me banging on the windows and yelling and threatening that he was calling the police to ticket me for the expired inspection and tags. The Roommate finally showed, without his bag of meds. "Where are your meds?" I asked. "Shit," he said, "I'll be right back." I made to circle the block, with the security guard chasing me on foot (traffic) screaming that I was going to jail, and finally lost him by turning into the hospital parking deck. I circled that and paused just inside it, ready to come out by the ER and grab The Roommate. The Roommate texted me "I need to use the bathroom can you park and wait a few" and I texted back that no, god dammit, I was being pursued and if he didn't get his ass in the car I'd leave him. Meanwhile the security guard spied me and screamed "YOU GOING TO JAIL WHITE BITCH!" and waved his phone at me. The Roommate appeared, got in the car, and I peeled off, sobbing, and headed right for the mechanic. The Roommate told me he'd rather go straight home, and I said too fucking bad, I couldn't handle another ticket and if that guy was really making all those phone calls I could hopefully fight a ticket in the mail by explaining I drove to the hospital for an emergency and took care of the car right afterward.
Then the minivan failed its inspection to the tune of $300 I don't have, and meanwhile my ex tried to pick a kid up from school early for a doctor's appointment I was aware of but had forgotten to send a note for, and when they refused to give him the kid without calling me to make sure everything was okay the ex LOST HIS MIND and is now suing me and the school and everybody with his (maybe not imaginary since the g/fiance recently inherited some money) lawyer.
I just can't right now. We came home and I had a shift pickup pending but couldn't stop bawling and finally The Roommate persuaded me to cancel the pickup, take an Ativan, and go lie down. I'm glad he did, because we need the money but I really did feel like ONE MORE THING would destroy me entirely.
Tomorrow is my appointment with the GP, and we'll see what she can do for me. If she isn't willing to try and treat me herself until I can get in with a shrink then I don't even know what I'll do, because something's got to give.