Disclaimer: There will be swear words in here, and this is not intended for children under 14 due to strong themes addressed here. I’ve had a very bad week.
I had a horrible day at home on Friday the 18th.
I finally got a call from my job coach after waiting nearly a month, maybe about four weeks since we last saw each other. Last month, I think we only saw each other once or twice. We’re supposed to see each other and look for jobs every week faithfully, about as often as I see my therapist and go to support group meetings.
This waiting for her to call me to schedule another appointment is getting very irritating. It’s so annoying that I’m close to making the accusation of her being lazy, or maybe too busy with other people or I’m not at all important to her. Or maybe my experience is not good enough for a career that I should just take to the streets and beg for money so I can pay back my college loans.
But I am not going to let myself be carried away with my emotions at this time. I did enough of that on Friday, and I’m pretty sure I’m wrong about my job coach being lazy or too busy to have time to help me get employed.
Just thinking about it sent me through a chain reaction of problems. When I did my laundry, some of my clean socks and underwear fell on the dirty floor and I forgot to put them in my basket to take upstairs. They didn’t look dirty when I came back down for more clothes, but I’m a little obsessive compulsive about clean laundry, so I beat up and pounded the socks and underwear for falling on the floor and threw them in the washer again.
Then… both my dad and my boyfriend were constantly contacting me about what to do about Saturday. Saturday the 19th was our anniversary, and dad thought it was a good idea to take us to the movies after I saw my support group. I texted both of them back and forth, trying to see how we were going to arrange all of this and it irked me to no end.
Then… The doorbell rang. I thought it was my package. It had been three weeks since I placed an order from Amazon to get me a copy of Ernest Cline’s Ready Player One, which was supposed to come to my door between August 9-16. It still hadn’t arrived. About ready to freak out one more time, I called Amazon Support days ago to ask why hasn’t it arrived yet.
The “dumb blond” on the phone said it was coming from CHINA. And then she laughed at me when I said I had no idea it was coming from there. I thought it was a reputable bookstore from the United States, I didn’t know it was an international bookseller available from Amazon.
When I asked her if it was in English, not Mandarin, she laughed even harder. I tried to hide my emotion over the phone, chuckling with her, but I felt like she was laughing at me, as if she was making fun of me. I wanted to go wherever her office was, march up to her desk, and punch her or pull a knife on her for being an idiot and laughing at me.
Anyway, when the doorbell rang on Friday, I thought it was UPS delivering the book I ordered. On my way to the door, Cinder barked, but I shushed her and said to myself, thank you, Amazon, for finally delivering it to me, thank you, thank you, thank you. The stupid woman on the phone said the order I placed was currently in Florida, so I should have been receiving it by the weekend.
But when I answered the door, it wasn’t a guy in brown cargo pants delivering my package from Amazon. It was an African American woman in a clean suit, asking me about if I was interested in buying the Xfinity service from Comcast.
Now, to explain my rage a little further, we have to go a little while back. About a year ago, my dad used to have the internet WiFi running in our house from Comcast. The price was a little affordable, so we got away with it. Then without warning, Comcast started charging us more money for our internet service without reason, raising the price of the WiFi use.
My parents were furious. They were already angry about Comcast and Verizon forcing people to pay absurd amounts of money for the full package of internet, cable, and landline phone or cell phones, and constantly increasing the prices for no damn reason at all. I saw this article on the news about some very upset customers filing complaints to their service providers that they wanted them to lower their monthly bills.
When my dad turned off the internet service permanently, Comcast wouldn’t stop harassing us with offers. They called us, and they sent people to our door and sent things in the mail, telling us, “You’re a valued customer! Please come buy our services again!”
Every time my dad got one of their phone calls or one of those people visiting our door, my dad barked at them, “Screw you. I want a manager to tell me you’re taking me off the list. Manager, now!”
So when this woman came to my door, I told her to get lost.
And then I just about lost it.
I followed her up the street, for she was still in my neighborhood, and I screamed at her and threatened her with bodily harm. I told her my situation- my dad cannot afford internet for more than $20 a month, and their prices were insane. And I said, “Let’s dance! I’m talking about a fight! Hit me with your best shot! Or let me punch you in the face! Let’s go, bitch!”
All she said was, “No. I don’t want to hurt you. I’m not going to fight you. And I won’t let you hurt me. Now get off these people’s property.”
Now, I could have went up to her and taken away her iPad or whatever electronic device she was holding to film me and whap her on the head with it to start something, but I will let you in on a little secret:
I. Am. A. COWARD.
Instead of hurting her, I let the fear on my back get the better of me and I stormed off, shouting, “You people are money grubbing vampires!” And I went back in the house.
As I left the scene of the crime, I could hear some of my neighbors laughing at me off to the side, while one of them was on the phone. I was too pissed off to acknowledge that some people were thinking, look at this crazy psychopath asshole who thinks it’s good to threaten a solicitor selling cable! And she’s so stupid for walking away! I thought we’d see more action in this neighborhood! What a c**t! I can’t wait to put this on YouTube! Ha ha ha ha ha ha HA!
To be totally honest, if I was paying attention, I would have went up to those neighbors who were laughing at me, I would have started punching and hitting them and pulling on their shirts, just like I almost did to people who bullied me in high school. I was always the one getting sent to the principal’s office for nearly causing fights because someone was hurting my feelings with their laughter and their painful jokes.
But I didn’t, because that calm woman from Xfinity was close enough to talking me down from my ledge. And also, I’m too much of a coward to start getting physical.
I was sweating and nervous. I went down to the basement to cool off and it wasn’t working. And then I thought, it was a good thing that sales person left me her card with her phone number on it, so I can call her and apologize.
So that’s what I did. When she finally picked up the phone, I said my apologies for my rudeness, and I told her to please stop any further offers from Comcast, no sales pitches, ever again. She accepted my apology, and added my address to the list of houses not to come in contact again.
I felt pretty good after that. But I felt like it wasn’t over yet. I had to go say I was sorry to the neighbors, and I had absolutely no memory of which house was where those people were laughing at me, and which property I invaded to scream at that sales girl from the service provider. I still knew I had to go up to them and say I’m sorry and explain to them that I am not a freak.
The first house I came to and rang the doorbell, the woman at the door couldn’t hear me because of her dog barking. When I talked to her outside, she said she didn’t remember anyone doing anything outside her house that day.
But she said she did remember me when I was a little girl and how I had grown up. She also wondered why she didn’t see my parents that much anymore, which I explained to her that we didn’t get out much and my parents were always taking the car. But all of us were still here.
Either way, she didn’t remember a girl screaming in the middle of a sidewalk, but she remembered the sweet little girl I used to be back in middle school. And that she watched me grow up. A little after that, she told me if I needed anything or if there was something wrong, I could just talk to her.
She seemed like a pretty nice lady, as nice as her beautiful front yard and her garden in the back of her house that I saw every day.
So it got me thinking as I turned back to my house and headed home… She was pretty much the nicest neighbor on the block, and her opinion of me was the only one that mattered. If someone was laughing at me and criticizing me for being bitchy, that’s their loss, and they don’t deserve to know the real me.
I guess it was a good thing I didn’t keep knocking on people’s doors when it started getting dark outside. Besides, my parents were on their way home, and they preferred to keep a platonic, non verbal agreement with the neighbors. My parents prefer to not communicate or make any arrangements with the neighbors at all.
On the other hand, my boyfriend and his family are friends with some of their neighbors a couple houses down the street. I don’t mind it, but I feel like my boyfriend’s trying to teach me something about being a good neighbor and maybe breaking my parents’ rule about not talking to people who live next door.
But the bottom line is this: If I’ve made a joke entirely on purpose, and I’m in a good mood, you are welcome to laugh with me. But if I’m angry to the point where I want to take it out on someone or something, you do not have my permission to laugh. My anger is not a joke.
Because my anger is a part of my mental health condition. And according to my support group’s rules, mental illness is treated as a medical illness, and we can accept that we can’t solve everything.
That said, you have to understand that I have the biggest problems with controlling my emotions. They sometimes eat away at my soul, and they sometimes make me into a puppet instead of me pulling the strings. Bipolar depression with rapid cycling is no laughing matter and it is not a joke.
I am not a comedian when I’m angry. If you come anywhere near me when I’m that upset, do me a favor: tell me everything’s ok and no one wants to hurt me. Tell me people want to help me feel better.
And if I start crying after realizing what I’ve done, hold me.
-Lady in the Blue Box