Hissy Fit; and also, the longest run on sentence EVER

Today my therapist told me it was okay to go home and have a temper tantrum.

Things have been building for awhile and though I am an adult, and have been one for over a decade  now, sometimes tiny voices in side me scream "NO I don't wanna!" or "You can't make me!" or "sddlfkjiajefhdskjvdlkj!".

I tried when I got home, I really did.

I got into comfy clothes. I lay in bed. I punched pillows. I tried to think of all the crap that is causing me anxiety and woe that is getting me down. It didn't help. The tears or anger didn't come. My brain just kept talking me off the ledge, being kind and compassionate and perhaps even reasonable, but that isn't, for once, what I need right now.

I need to have a full fledged temper tantrum.

I need to throw myself on the floor of Walmart and pound my limbs and scream and knock over displays and have someone, anyone, patiently wait while I self destruct then calmly tell me to get up and get in the car and we are going home now. Because ultimately, this needed tantrum isn't about how much my job is killing me right now or how I haven't slept in over three months due to my new kitten or how much I freaking hate the crap condo I quickly moved into when my last one was destroyed or how said condo has gross old carpet, non working appliances, the worst fucking downstairs neighbor EVER, constantly reeks like a goddamn casino because the three units that surround it are filled with smokers, the floor plan is retarded, the rent is too high and I never feel safe in the crap condo. The temper tantrum isn't about how much my friends are wearing on me right now with petty things and stupid demands and making poor choices and thinking I am going to step in and save them, it isn't about my poor health and my failing liver and my odd metabolic disorder or the fact that I have gained so much weight from said health issues that I am actually uncomfortably in pain from both the health issues and now all the added weight. The hissy fit isn't about how difficult it is to work with doctors and how I have to be my own advocate and how I did mountains of research because they weren't paying attention and how I had to demand the right treatment and seek out doctor after doctor; it isn't about my crap family or their drama and how much they try to drag me in and drag me down; it isn't about financial issues continually cropping up that keep me semi-trapped in a crap condo barely ahead of my bills; it isn't even about the awful devastating breakup I got to live through the last year, or how much I abhor online dating and how demoralizing it is to meet random losers for drinks and how fucked up people are to each other in the world and online.

The tantrum ultimately is about the fact that I am LONELY, bored, unfulfilled, missing authentic human connection and exhausted by being the only person responsible for me all the time, always.

The tantrum I need to have is because I have no one, not a soul, to take care of me when the day is done. My parents failed spectacularly in this fashion and my whole life I have cared for myself, my siblings, my friends, my family, my ex, the exes before my ex, my coworkers, everyone. For a brief time I thought I had someone to care about me, my (asshole, shithead, selfish son of a bitch) ex, and the relief and joy that came with that was every good and calm and wonderful thing in the world all wrapped up in one wonderful warm summer breeze. Even if ultimately it was an illusion, it was the first and only time I have ever felt safe, secure, and loved in my life. And having had that, only to not have it, well. The reason I need to have a tantrum is precisely the reason I can't get the tantrum to trigger: I need someone to witness my tantrum but there is no one there.

Recursive tantrum logic: because I have no one to witness me having a tantrum I need to have a tantrum. Adulthood always has exciting new ways to F with me.

Don't get me wrong: I have friends. I have a great therapist. I am not a shut in. I have a job to go to, health insurance, all my teeth, a car that starts everyday, and a roof over my head (a roof I need to move away from but one step at a time people) and ultimately I'm still luckier that probably 98% of the world's population; good lord I have clean drinking water and I'm allowed to live my life as a female in public without being stoned. However, at the end of the day I am bored, alone, overworked, and missing authentic, deep human connection.

So I need to have a tantrum damnit. A giant meltdown screaming hissy fit of a tantrum. I need/want to have it be about ME ME ME and how MY needs aren't met and how the burden of supporting oneself totally alone is, in fact, a total bitch at times and that half the shit in my life isn't FAIR (life isn't fair, but you aren't allowed to argue the nature of my tantrum, it is mine! MINE!) and that I am TIRED of being freaking alone and that my reward for doing the right thing to protect myself and get out of a bad relationship has been precisely nothing and that I'm afraid there really is no one out there and I am pissed off as hell that I even have to TRY because why oh why oh why hissy bitch whine moan isn't anything ever easy? WHINE BITCH BITCH AUGH temper tantrum break things scream sob throw stuff meltdown.

I need an emotional release I can't get, and I don't know how.

Check out the twitter feed to the right

...but DON'T follow me, I will quickly annoy you by posting 100 times in one day and then nothing for months. Don't say you weren't warned, I don't want your wrath.

That said, I'm writing this post like a series of tweets.

Discovered that red wine really jazzes up when rum or vodka is added.

Red wine is so much better with vodka or rum added that in fact I suggest you skip the red wine bit altogether.

Red wine + rum or vodka - red wine = less carbs!

I got a cat.

She is almost six months old.

I love her dearly except from 3AM to 6AM.

I fantasize about boarding my cat overnight at the vet or sneaking out to my car to sleep when I am particularly delirious from sleep deprivation.

I adopted my cat in January. I haven't had real sleep since then.

Pet insurance is awesome, in particular when the kitten you adopt is straight from kitten death row and requires THOUSANDS of dollars in vet bills.

On the bright side my cat's energy at night is a sign that she is going to be healthy someday, on the downside I still have to express the pus out of her eyes and give her eye drops.

For two solid months my free time consisted of enticing a small skeletal swath of fur to eat special food mixed with prebiotics, probiotics, antibiotics, bovine colostrum, fiber supplement and exhaustion.

My cat no longer feels like an achingly sad pile of bones barely covered with ratty, oddly discolored fur. Now she is a slightly more filled out pile of ratty, oddly discolored fur.

My cat is the cutest cat that has perhaps ever lived.

Beauty can be in the eye of the beholder.

After I dumped my jackass ex, over a year ago now, it was oh so very, very sad to have no one to say "I love you" to anymore. Now I say "I love you" at least twice a day, to my cat. It really does make a difference, and I really do love her.

Thank God for small favors and tiny kittens; covered from head to toe in their own sick, behind two inches of plexiglass in a tiny cage, desperately underweight and ill, too pathetic and feeble for anyone else to take, that need me even more than I need them, that I get to love and help to thrive.

Thank God I got to her in time.

Thank God she lived.

Thank God (my cat agrees) for Zyrtec D and allergy treatments covered by my insurance that help me cope with my cat's ratty, oddly colored fur.

Thank God I survived 2011 mostly intact; 2012 is a year of rebuilding and growth and perspective.

Love to all of you.


Edited To Add: My cat chirps. Chirps! She doesn't meow, she chirps. The vet and I and all my friends find this to be the most darling thing EVER. Fin.