You know you are having a really bad day when you ask your Mother to leave the room so that you can swear, when you normally do not swear.
The day started of well enough. I went down to my parents place to be there in case I was needed when the Comcast guy came. While I was there someone stole my porch garden. My beautiful bell peppers and my eggplant. They were much more than two plants, they were my therapy. I really hate the evil in this world. I’m tired of getting kicked with I am down and ready to catch a break. If they needed the food, and would have asked I would have gladly shared, but no, they have no respect for personal property or boundaries. This idiot thief apparently is going around stealing plants from people’s yard, not just vegatables. Some they are even digging up. I just want them to know I have gun and I do not know how to use it, but that makes me extra dangerous! Do not make someone who is already dealing with PTSD feel unsafe in her own home! The plants were just a few feet from my door. The thought of someone I do not know coming that close into my personal territory terrifies me. If a negative thought could be thought about anyone, it was thought about the person or persons who stole my plants. I guess I am more angry than I realized because so much anger is bubbling out, and continuing to do so, in the words of Mr. T, “I pity the fool” if I find out who did this!
As if that was not a bad enough day, sending my therapy to the pooper. My Daddy and I were pulling out of our drive way onto the highway, I saw him for the first time. It was worse than I ever imagined. You can never prepare yourself for it. Daddy asked if I wanted to go back home, we were going to pick up a puppy for my Mother, several counties away. I was able to verbalize, “No Daddy, please keep going! Keep going, please”. Then I was gone, fighting “her” for a long time. Cutting the circulation off in my fingers from twisting the straps on purse tightly around them. Trying to feel the pain so that “she” could not take over. I felt her expressions on my face, the pout of her lips. I wanted to call my Mother, but I knew she would want us to come home, but I needed to focus on doing this service for Mother so that I could stay in the now. Daddy keep assuring me that I was okay, that was in the past, reaching and rubbing my arm, calling me “Baby Girl”. I needed that as much as “she” did. Once we were nearly out of our county I sent a text to Mother. I could not call. I was right, she wanted us to come home, and forget the puppy. I said, “No”.
We picked up her baby, who I lovingly call “Piglet”. Not because she is big, quite the contrary, she is a tiny chihuahua. The runt of the litter. I call her Piglet because one of the pictures that I sent Mother she looked like a Piglet because of her coloring and the markings on her nose. Mother put Daddy and I in charge of giving Piglet the once over before buying her. I turned her over, and asked questions several. She received the stamp of approval from both of us, we tried to FaceTime with Mother, but it would not work. Anyway, on the journey back home, Piglet acted hungry and so I was going to let her nibble on my finger. Oh boy. Piglet, who will be 7 weeks tomorrow according to the gentlemen that we purchased her from does not have a tooth in her little Piglet mouth. We wonder if she might be younger than they said she is. Her mom stopped feeding her. Who knows, she is a cute tiny thing, and will have her first vet appointment as soon as Mother can get one. We tried feeding her formula tonight and she would not have any of it. Last I talked to Mother she was going to use a syringe and see if she can get something in her.
Today has been exhausting. I am ready to be asleep safe beside my husband, and pray tomorrow will be better, even though I do have a funeral to go to. Please let it be better!