My anxiety is going through the roof right now. I am freaking out a little but because my family is coming up to UT this weekend and are at some point going to look at my apartment to see where I live. When I was growing up and people were coming over, my mother would go into an anxious cleaning frenzy, and I have been in this state for about two weeks now, but my roomie don’t seem to understand why I am so anxious about this whole thing. So my cleaning early has been somewhat in vain because nothing will stay clean for more than a minute.
Being anxious means that I can’t sleep; it just won’t happen (hence why I am writing this blog post now, at like one in the morning). So for the last week, I have been sleep deprived. To go to sleep, I must make a list of what I need to do the next day and this usually keeps me awake till two in the morning. Then I am awoken at four from my roommate tromping about the apartment and I can’t go back to sleep. The effect of sleep deprivation on me is simple: I’m cranky and impatient. So this has been shown with my dealings with others and then I fell like I need to put a facebook status about the whole thing.
So I get a text from my father yesterday after freaking out, because I had my ecclesiastical endorsement interview, and it asked if I was alright because I seem really angry in my facebook updates. I responded that I was ok and I was just anxious. I was confused why he would text me when it is much easier for him to call me and there isn’t part of our communication lost like it is in text, so I called him this morning to talk to him about it. He didn’t see why I had any reason to be anxious, and therefore angry. I tried to explain to him that I was anxious about Mom visiting and seeing the apartment, and anxious because nobody treats me things well (One roomie almost burned a hole through my pot twice in an hour because he left boiling water unattended). And all these little things make me lose all sense of patients with the world and I may appear mean. By the end of our conversation, he was telling me to not be angry but to exact revenge basically against my roomies (by not letting them use my things anymore, and putting their dirty dishes in their beds) but I just think that is worse than what I am doing now. And that will make me the mean roomie, and I don’t want to be stuck with that stigmata. Yada yada yada… my dad told me that this anger is a slippery slope down to hell. I couldn’t talk to him any longer. I didn’t even tell him that I loved him.
Now I am having an anxiety attack over some damn couch. My roomie JL decided to bring in another couch into our apartment so that he could take the nice leather loveseat and move it into his room. I wasn’t down for this at all but when I got home from school today, he was unloading a hideous monster from the back of his jeep. I tried to play everything off with humor, but I let him know that he was not taking the loveseat. So then I became the evil, douche bag roomie. He doesn’t seem to understand why I would be opposed to this whole arrangement, especially because now he was just going to leave all the couches out in the front room. But my issue is that we have no room for any more furniture, especially because our front room has turned into a storage shed for all his shit. He is also leaving at six in the morning for California, so I have to deal with this thing, but there is no place I can put it while my family comes to visit.
Oh dear god this thing is driving me crazy. I want to punch him in the face right now, and I tried to explain to him my issues with it but he doesn’t give a shit. AND ALL MY OTHER ROOMIES DON’T CARE FOR IT EITHER! I’m driving myself insane just thinking about this monstrosity that is lounging about inside of out apartment. I really just want to put it outside, but if I do and it receives any weathering, he will try to make me pay for it. It looks like it is worth 50 bucks but he is trying to say it is worth 1200 bucks. Umm… last time I checked, when you have piss stains on a couch, it depreciates it quite a bit. Oh I am giving myself an ulcer. I fear that it is time for me to see a therapist.
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