Glass of Hell, Freshly Squeezed Just For Me

“What Fresh Hell” is one of my all time favorite quotes but I have used it several times in various forms as a post title so I thought I’d shake it up a bit. Hell is hell, freshly squeezed or from concentrate.

Today was hell. I spent almost 7 unbearable hours at the shop, in the dish, because hey, he bought the new handle for my car door and was doing the labor for free, so…I owe him. Which is fine. But being out of my safe zone that long is disorienting to the nth. Then he pointed out we’d be spending most of the day and evening together since tonight was the night to fix the car door handle. That did not enthuse me. Nothing against him. Just…Sound, light, chaos, it’s all getting to me and I am falling to pieces like a rotting zombie.

Then came the door handle fix. Easy peasy, he says. FIVE FUCKING HOURS. Shortly before 6 pm until almost 11 p.m. to replace a busted door handle. He used so many curse words, I may have learned a couple new ones. Though I did point out he had failed to throw in cockweasel and we cannot have the cockweasels claiming some sort of prejudice. (Humor is the only thing that keeps me going, dudes.)

Spook was all clinging today because her attitude and hitting me this morning got the droid taken away from her. R and I had Wendy’s for lunch and for whatever reason…it sent me into gastric agony. The kind not even Tums and Immodium help with. Agony. So being wallowed by a child, and especially not even allowed to run to the bathroom doubled over in agony without MOM MOM MOM every ten seconds…Fresh hell, indeed.

She was bored at R’s and frankly, so was I but I have learned when someone is doing something nice for you they are not obligated to do but choose to do it…You suck it up. She went inside and fell asleep on the sofa shortly after 8, after she got pissed that he didn’t fix it in time for us to be home for her to get the church bus.

I was dispatched to Auto Zone in R;’s ’85 two seating, which I loathe driving (hate driving anyone else’s car) and of course I started having mega panic attacks and all the headlights were triggering me and I can’t see well at night. Some dude tried to pass four lanes of traffic in the dark, was like human Frogger. Nightmare.

Got back with the parts he needed for the door handle…only they didn’t fit right. And so began three more hours of him swearing and me just really wishing he’d throw in the towel, I would have. But he is tenacious and he would not give up even when it hit ten o’clock. He found different bolts and nuts, he filed them down, forced them to thread, he cussed that car and Buick and their great grannies…

Meanwhile I was leaning over the car hood cos only laying on my tummy seems to get my stomach acids to calm down. I was in agony the whole time, wanting a clean line to the toilet. Humiliating, and not sure if it was the food or if I have met my stress quota and am cracking up cos I’ve been doing this friend thing for R for 3 days and his marital drama is worse than a fucking soap opera written by someone on acid…

It’s exhausting trying to be a good person, especially when drama is one of your personal triggers.

But finally the car door was done and we were able to come home. Spook went right back to sleep in her own bed.

R called and pleaded with me to come in tomorrow so he could run a few errands, including getting his mom’s birthday card and gift and after he spent 5 hours with ice cold hands and busted up knuckles just to put that door handle on for me…I can’t fucking say no and live with myself. I did, however, make the caveat that it be around ten a.m. Cos I was there at 7:45 a.m. today, sans meds lest they knock me out and all…And I forgot deodorant, forgot to brush my hair…I was skanky and zero fucks were given.

I truly wanted tomorrow to regain equilibrium because today tested my limitations…But how do you say no to someone who busted up their knuckles and spent 5 hours unpaid doing repairs to your junk? Especially so he can get his mom a gift and stuff.

So I will tough it out, pray my stomach stops channeling gastric satan, and then hopefully sometime this weekend my brain will slow down enough to vent about the last week or so where I was uber triggered and even pondered signing myself into the psych ward at one point.

Until then…Could I please get some eggs and bacon with my fresh squeezed OJ from Hell?


3 Responses to “Glass of Hell, Freshly Squeezed Just For Me”

  1. Good Lord what a mess. You absolutely can have eggs and bacon and if I were close enough I’d make them for you.

  2. To get a small oj in a very quiet bar i had my body trying to kill me, brain borderline​ panic and the ‘relaxing’ exercise was an effort in pure tension

    But i was social (barely), in public (barely) and communicated (barely) so all good right?

    “What doesn’t kill us, makes us more able to suffer horribly next time
    Even if we wish for death really hard!”

  3. Come to the bunker, rest, chill, be, don’t do anything. I wrangle myself, 2 teens, a wife, and a dog, so what’s 2 more? It’s just a little bit of food and drink. Mum used to say, “I’ll add something to the soup” whenever company came over to eat or visit and eat. It means, there’s not much, but we’ll make it work. And what I learned from Mum is, there may not be much, but we can make it work. I’m still here after 30 adult years of panic+anxiety+rage+my little depression/mania waves+housework+everything, so, it must be working, just like these crap cars we drive. Sure, they may be death traps, but “did you die though?” (Daughter started saying that when she started learning how to drive.) My answer is “not yet.”

    What you need is a mental bunker to fortify yourself in, a bit like certain bloggers’ fort blankie(s), only more securely imagined. Mine has 42 imaginary locks and nobody is getting in there but me without an invitation. But you’re still invited. If you build a mental bunker, do the above, just in your own safe place. Whenever we meet, you can bring the OJ, and I’ll bring the vodka.

    Mostly, don’t forget to breathe, and secondarily, if it counts for anything, remember I love beautiful you. A lot. Forever. And your beautiful daughter too.


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