Tammy and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Month

I went to sleep with wild thoughts in my head and now there's an uncomfortable wildness to my mood and I could tell - it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad month.

That's what it was, because the month came in on a huge storm that turned everything to cold and ice and gray and my heart feared that it would never see the sun again. But the storm subsided and the kids were going back to school and maybe there was light at the end of the tunnel, no matter how hypothetical or fabricated that light might be. Except the night that should've been filled with choosing outfits for that first day back to school and remembering to set alarm clocks was filled instead with ambulances and hospitals and I could tell - it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad month.

I wanted to run away to Australia.

That's what it was, all right, because the officer standing in my living room told me that all of my sweet child's problems were brought on by me. I told him I was being responsible. I told him I knew a little something about child development. I think I told him those things - it's hard to remember. I know he dismissed me and blamed me. In my own house. I told him she was in the grips of a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad monster. He laughed and called it the teenage trifecta.

I knew he was wrong while I wondered if he was right.

What if he was right?

Are officers that mean and disrespectful in Australia?

It was the beginning of a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad month.

That's what it was, because after the ride in the ambulance and the night in the hospital, they said, "we have bad news". I wondered if they couldn't wait to tell me the bad news when the sun was shining enough to help me hear it, but that's not the way hospitals like to operate. Maybe in Australia, but not here.

More visits to doctors and therapists and specialists - it seems like there is a visit every day! I drive and I write checks and I hear bad news. I said, "I feel like a wallet with wheels!" Nobody responded. I yelled, "I am taking my wallet and my wheels and heading for Australia!" Nobody knew what to do with that. I screamed, "I am having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad month!" Nobody seemed to listen.

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad month, all right, because in the middle of the appointments and the accusations and the guilt, the guilt, the guilt, I got myself involved in an online argument with someone I didn't even know. He said horrible things and I didn't respond to them, but I carried them in my heart. I waited for a knight in shining armor to come to my emotional rescue, somebody who knew right from wrong and could sort it all out, but nobody did. Knights show up for beautiful princesses, not for useless middle-aged mothers in crisis and ESPECIALLY not if those useless middle-aged mothers are fat, because everyone knows that's the most useless kind of all. Besides, the good potential knights gently informed me, you can't fight with an asshole and you never win with an asshole and he's an asshole, what are you gonna do? (Castles don't even have phones, asshole.) The good knights wisely rose above it. I knew it was the wise thing to do, but I couldn't do it, even though I tried very hard. I struggled and strangled alone.

I knew he was wrong while I wondered if he was right.

What if he was right?

Are assholes that mean and disrespectful in Australia?

What a terrible, horrible, no good, very fucking bad month!

That's what it was, because I took an additional part time job. Very menial. Very humbling. But I took it because ambulance rides aren't free and all the doctors and therapists and specialists say we probably haven't taken our last. But when I went to do the job today, it was like the instructions were written in Swahili, which I don't think they even know how to read in Australia. I couldn't make anything make any sense. I started to sweat. I started to shake. I couldn't think and I couldn't work and I wasn't even sure I remembered how to breathe.

So I left.

I sent a conscious message for each step to my brain and I walked right out to my car and drove myself home.

It was irresponsible.

It was unreliable.

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad thing to do, and I did it.

Because I couldn't remember how to do anything else.

I let people down.

I simply - couldn't.

Do people have panic attacks in Australia?

I have had enough of this terrible, horrible, no good, very bad month.

And it's only half way over.

I guess some months are like that. Even in Australia.