Chaos Reigns Supreme

I'm tired. The stepparent's dog managed to escape today and I had an unplanned early morning pajama, boobs-a-bobbing, hike of two miles. He's done his best to escape and die this whole time. We've done our best to prevent that but he's especially stubborn and today he found a weakness in the system and bolted.

I eventually found the little fucker. The damn dog is home and probably riddled with ticks, which I'm sure you can understand we're a little hypervigilant about ticks here. Once I've recovered a bit--I was already hurting from all the gardening I did the day before--I'll work on dealing with the tick risk.

On the upside, that was my first big hike since my foot surgery and I did okay. I felt it. I'd prefer to not be hiking yet, but it went okay. Kind of.

My parent is out of jail and completely unhinged. So that's going about as well as can be expected. The biggest problem is they can put on a good act and they know all about dementia and dementia testing so they're going to have to be pretty far gone before they can get diagnosed. Also, they're combative and paranoid. It's difficult.

Right now, I'm waiting for a hospitalization where I can invoke social services and accelerate things that way. I am not claiming that's the correct or best approach, just it's what I think I can make work. And you're right, they may not end up in the hospital, but also, they do have a decent number of ER visits because they fall and break bones quite a bit when they're high. 

I'm actually surprised they haven't accidentally killed themselves yet. Somehow they don't hit their head or have anything major beyond needing some joint replacements here and there due to bad falls. The force of the universe clearly wants them to live to spew dysfunction and drama faster than the speed of light.

PT is continuing to be awful. I don't know what happened but the PT aide didn't know my history and balked and scolded and argued when I refused to do certain things, things I'd told the PT were a no go at the intake appointment. Things for my foot, my spine. You'd think recent surgery would be something they wouldn't argue about. You would be wrong. 

I'm trying to just smile my way through it and finish it. I'll be halfway through this week so it seems silly to switch therapists. I just want to be done. I don't want to expend any more effort on stupid shit. I'm very burned out. It's taken a lot of energy to deal with my parents and my kid and my foot the last few months. However, if I have to keep actively preventing them from injuring me at each appointment, I will work harder to convince myself it's worth it to ask for someone new. 

Either way, I will be making the clinic aware of my experience...hopefully someone there will care enough and have the bandwidth to address it.

I'm so tired of dealing with everyone's dysfunction. Maybe it's me? Maybe I am doing it all wrong. Maybe I should just let them destroy my spine and foot. They're the ones with the degrees. I have to be stupid, right? It has to be me? Maybe I should just let the dog run loose and die in the woods since he's so hell bent on it. Maybe my parent is the sane one and I should be in jail.

Actually, jail sounds lovely. Can I go to jail? No one can reach me. Most decisions made for me. No expectation that I do anything for anyone.  Where do I sign up? How much crime do I have to do?

And then...AND THEN a gnat flew in my ear and it either made me bleed or it smashed itself against my ear drum until it splattered its guts out. There was blood. Mine or theirs, I don't know. But blood. From my ear. And now I'm dizzy. This has happened before (minus the blood) so I actually know a drill here. I'll be dizzy for a while and eventually the damn thing will breakdown enough that it'll stop.

But...really?

If you need me, I'll be online researching where the best jails are. I cannot with this shit.