Today tried really hard.
I woke up 6 minutes late, with no alarm having been set (yet sure I set it...), so that rubbed me the wrong way. Mom forgot to call me, too, so 6 minutes late I was. I can get ready in 20 and give myself an hour, so this 6 minutes wasn't needed, but it did put a little bump in my routine.
The drive to group was horrendous and stressful, as always, and leaves me crawling by the time I get there.
Then there's The Room. Partial takes place in a small (smaller than my living room in my one-bedroom apartment) room. There are at times 15 people in that room, and we are shoulder to shoulder. And people talk in that room. Typical conversational volume to you, after a short term, is more than my poor ears can handle. So there's that piece of the puzzle...
And then there's The Guy. There's a guy in group who is either on or off. No in between. On is, frankly, diarrhea of the mouth (sorry for the image, there), at a rather loud volume. Off is totally zoned out, even asleep. He spends roughly equal amounts of time in each state. Once he starts talking, he doesn't stop for nary a breath, until someone literally tells him he has to stop. Then sometimes he still tries to keep going. And because My Spot is by the window and he got booted out of his Spot, he now sits right beside me and directs his talking at me. I don't pretend to listen. I know I don't take cues well either, but I can tell if someone is ignoring me.
Between The Room and The Guy, my anxiety was really building today. Oh, and then at some point Leigh mildly snapped at me, because I didn't understand the way she said something and didn't leave her alone when she needed to be left alone. Didn't help things. I kept leaving The Room to sit in the hallway, but out there, people kept walking past, which also made me anxious. When the therapists came by to tell something to the whole group and asked me to go back in, just the thought of going back into The Room sent me into a panic attack. Lovely.
Cats, breathing, talking, therapists, all of this later, I reentered The Room for an hour and finished the day.
Then, I had to call the People on the phone to set up my ride for the next few days. These people are, well, mean. They are cranky. They are rude. They yelled at me. All over setting up a ride through a company. I don't do phones, first of all. I got confused and confused the lady and, as expected, she yelled at me. Start the crying.
And the crying leads to a meltdown. Sadly, perhaps, I'm used to such things while I drive and don't even pull over anymore. I can control it until I get home.
But then I got home and REALLY melted. Full-blown yelling, crying, biting, hitting, icky, horrid meltdown.
I'd love to say that I successfully used DBT skills. I really tried. I did. Or even the cat. That didn't work either. I breathed. Nada.
So, I took a milligram of klonopin and turned all lights and sound off and laid on the couch until I calmed down. I'm not even tired from the klonopin... just breathing normally, finally.
The ideal way to handle myself? Perhaps not. I try not to over-rely on meds. I take klonopin every 2-4 weeks on average, so I don't really think I'm abusing it, but I always feel like I'm taking the easy way out when I take it and zone myself out.
It did, however, give me the ability to use skills and cat and hot bath and whatnot so that I could stay calmed down, so it's not all for naught.
The last place I want to go is to group tomorrow. I don't know if I'll be able to go back into The Room, especially if The Guy is there. I do know that I will go armed with sunglasses (to ward off the evil lights) and purring CD on my mp3 player, which is charging.
Another day, another meltdown. And so we try again.