July Part 5 – Confessions of a Crazy Bitch – The Ugly Side of Me

Lyme Rage. I have explained it before, how I can’t control my anger and call it my word vomit, but I wonder to myself if it is something that I have always had inside of me that has just gotten progressively worse because of the Lyme. Or maybe I have just reached a point that I won’t tolerate (even though I still try to a lot of the time) being walked on, dealing with ridiculous drama cases, or people and situations that are just annoying anymore. Or maybe I am just sick of being sick and am taking it out on the world. I don’t know. 

 All I know is for the most part throughout my life,  I have taken a lot of crap from people and don’t say anything, but now I get snappy and can get straight up black-out angry at the drop of a hat. What I mean by black-out angry is that I get so mad I literally can’t even see who I am yelling at and things just come out and I don’t even realize I am doing it. I know I am doing it to a certain extent, but can’t stop myself at all.  Everyone is my target. Even if they are just innocent strangers. Or our family pets. Thank goodness for their unconditional love. At this point my dog just looks at me like, “Are you for real, mommy? Not again…you be crazy” while I have tantrums in my house, yelling and throwing things and breaking them, mostly over trying to do simple things that I can’t, or trying to find things in my house like my keys, a bill, whatever. A lot of times I blame Dave and yell at him, even though he isn’t even there, until I find whatever I was looking for and then I spend the rest of the day shaky and lightheaded, without feeling below my knees. 

 There are a few people that I am trying desperately to mind-over-matter goosefraba  that are literally driving me insane at this point of my life and treatment, and I know that once I begin treatment again, I really won’t have the time or the energy to deal with it so I know it’s all a matter of time and I will snap. Tick tock tick tock. 

 I don’t know if it is just aggravating my rage issues being so nervous about treatment to begin at the end of the month or what that has made me a crabby patty lately, much worse than my usual Lyme rage.  If any of you know me personally, you know that I am not like this in any way, shape or form. All of this stuff that I do now isn’t me at all.  I am kind, compassionate, put others before me, and would consider myself a genuinely good person. Being like this is absolutely mortifying. 

Here are a few examples of my finest behavior in the past few weeks:

 Before my benefit, I was at a local gas station to get my morning coffee and scratch ticket. Yes, I have to buy a scratch ticket of sorts every day as it’s an obsessive compulsive habit and I will literally feel “on edge” until I do so. Geesh, you are probably reading this like, “holy hell, this girl is NUTS!”. I swear I’m not. I just have my quirks. I know I am a little nuts right now but I can’t really do much about it. 

 Anyways, once I got out of the gas station, and wobbled out to my car, a van pulled up to a gas pump too far, blocking my car in. There was a truck parked next to me with two men eating their breakfast and drinking their coffee and could see that I was getting angry, and the gentleman on the passenger side said, “hey sweetheart, I see you are stuck, we will pull forward a bit to see if you can inch your way around him. Well, he moved forward and another truck parked behind him. The man that had the van that blocked me in was just standing there watching me. He could have been a decent guy and pulled back a few feet, considering there was no car behind him and he was a mile away from the pump, but just proceeded to stare. 

 This is when I got black-out mad. My windows were down, from talking to the guy who offered to move his truck for me, and the fact that I still have fun hot flashes. I literally started screaming out my window at him, “fucking faggot, keep staring, or I’ll hit your fucking van you piece of shit!” I will tell you, I am not a biggot hate monger by any means, but when I have my Lyme rages, it’s just a ton of word vomit. I managed to wedge myself out and drive off. I still wonder if he went back into the gas station, matching my face to the benefit poster on the door. He probably thought to himself, “fuck that crazy bitch.”

I don’t know how Dave hasn’t left me throughout this behavior since my treatment. He usually gets the wrath of Kimmie. He was teasing me the other day, about my video of the B12 shots, and using some vulgar matter due to the way I fill my syringes. Watch the video, you’ll figure it out, use your imagination. 😉 He asked me why I just didn’t wait until he was home to do the video to hold the vial for me so I didn’t look “ridiculous”. 

 I showed the video the exact way I do it. I first of all only have 2 hands. Secondly, he is never home when I do my shots. Thirdly, the needles are super flimsy and bend in half when I try to one hand the vial and the other try to hold the syringe and fill it, hence the “method to my madness”. A normal person would shrug this off, call him a dink and move on. But the rage set in. I took the television remote and threw it as hard as I could at his face. And I got him too. Once again, no control. It is like I know I am doing it but it’s not me doing it, if that makes any sense.  Once again, completely mortifying. Luckily, he wasn’t mad at me, he kind of knew he was pushing my buttons too far. I am glad he is a good man, I wouldn’t put up with myself, I don’t even want to deal with myself most of the time. 

The most recent, is a time that Dave actually DID get REALLY mad at me. You don’t mess with Dave’s food. You just don’t. A hungry Dave is an angry Dave. It was around 4:30 last Saturday evening. We were both lounging around the house, trying to decide what to do for dinner. My legs were in a ton of pain so I didn’t want to even move, and Dave had a drink, so he didn’t want to drive anywhere (he has his CDL so he will not drink any alcohol and drive). So we decided on delivery; a pizza for him, chicken, french fries and a salad for me. The fries were really for Dave but it was a meal that included it. I was told it would be 30 minutes.

 Well, an hour and a half later, no food. I decided to call and see if they somehow forgot our order. The guy that answered said they would be right over, the delivery guy got lost during the previous delivery. Ugh. Okay. Literally minutes later, the delivery guy showed up, apologized, and gave Dave his pizza, and a bag with my food. I opened up the bag on the kitchen counter, and didn’t see my salad. I thought maybe it was in the box with my chicken and fries, and opened to take a look and it wasn’t there, and my chicken and fries had clearly been sitting in the car for over an hour as they were cold and soggy. 

 I lost my shit. Where the fuck was my salad?  My food looked disgusting. And I just waited over an hour and a half. Those bastards. I called the pizza place and before the guy had the chance to say “Welcome to…..” I was swearing at him, telling him the driver better get his ass back to my house, take their food, give me my money back and I wanted the driver’s tip money back. 

 At this point, Dave started to get mad at the phone call. But what really set him off the edge was that he had already started, “decorating” his pizza with onions (we are cheap and put our own toppings on most of the time so we don’t have to pay more) and so he was “undecorating” his pizza, disappointed and slowly, and I in a swift move grabbed a handful of onions off his pizza and threw them across the kitchen. This is when he REALLY got mad.

 The delivery guy came right back. He had my salad in hand and I proceeded to tell him how disgusting the food was, keep the fucking salad and handed him the container and Dave’s pizza. He gave me all my money back, including his tip and apologized to me for forgetting and left. 

 Dave spent the rest of the night hiding out in the carport.  Tinkering. Far, far away from me. When he came in he immediately went to take a shower then headed to bed. I went in and I apologized to him, but he was still pretty mad at me. The last thing he said to me that night was, “You can apologize all you want, but that doesn’t make me less hungry ” as he rolled over and went to bed. Never mess with a man’s food.

 

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