Me-bits: The Meltdown

Listen, this is the blog of a pre-hysterical woman. You're the first to see me just before I go off the deep-end. Or would that be the last? Whatever. I'm losing it.

You'd think I'd be happy in my lovely home with my wonderful son and husband. I work in my basement for God's sake! I don't even have a commute! But there is nastiness lurking all around me and about me.

I have three big problems: malts, cancer and cats.

Malts - I started seeing a counselor to help with my weight issues. Issues...damn that's a polite way to put it, huh? I'm freaking fat! Fat and getting fatter as my depression drives me to eat like Rush Limbaugh running for his Oxy fix. Seems the longer I go to therapy the more I eat. Is it supposed to work that way? I think not but I have no clue how to stop it as things in my life spiral out of control. Stress = Malts in my f*cked up world.

Cancer - My Mom has it and it's killing her. Melanoma out of control as it builds multiplexes in her lungs. I've been taking care of her for years, even since before my Dad died in 2004 of, you guessed it, cancer. Well, he died of chemotherapy...more on that another time. Mom is in a very nice assisted living place and is doing ok for now. But I have to face the fact that every day we get very much closer to losing her. And every day I get a little more hysterical.

Cats - My beautiful cat Mischa (1 of 3) is our only outdoor cat. He has a feral streak that just made it cruel to keep him inside (I tell myself that to make myself feel better. Believe me, it doesn't work one damn bit)! He is fixed and just loves the catnip patch by the gazebo as much as he loves visiting our neighbors. Oh, and bringing home small dead critters for me to praise.

Anyway, Mischa is missing. He's never been away for more than two nights -- EVER -- in his 6 years. He's been gone since Sunday night and we are worried sick. Tears in my eyes even as I type this rant. But must hold myself together because my son is still awake. Hate to have him see me in this pre-hysterical mode AND crying. Would scare him to death.

So there are my three demons: malts, cancer and cats (well, just "cat" I guess). I'll end this now and add some duct tape. You know...to keep it together. (Damn, that sucked) Ok, later.

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