Are we there yet?

So, I've been quiet.  I've been quiet because I don't know that anyone would want to read what I really want to say... it would be a long winded rant where every other word is Fuck. 

I think people look at this and think to themselves that I am at home boo hooing about my ovaries.  Yea, that part sucks, but that's not why I'm about to crack.  I'm about to crack because for well over a year now, every single thing... every single aspect of my life has been a bit of a challenge.  Imagine your most stressful day.  Nothing goes right.  Tomorrow most of you wake up and everything is better.  For some of you, it carries over into maybe a week.  For most of you, things get better.  Imagine how you would feel if after a year, nothing has gotten better.  New problems come up... old problems are still lying around, unresolved.  Nothing is getting better. 

After a year of this, I feel tired.  I feel like I started down this road expecting to swim a few laps.  These laps have turned into a river, the river has taken me to the ocean, now I feel like I have swam around the world.  My GPS says that I will hit land in two hours, so keep swimming.  Two hours have passed and there is no land in sight.  I AM TIRED.  I want to stop swimming. 

What would happen if I stopped swimming?  Would I drown?  I'm kind of drowning now.  So seriously what would happen if I let everything go.  Things would suck?  They suck now. 

People don't see the strong person about to drown. Because on the outside, everything seems like everything is okay.  Most people would have stopped swimming a long time ago. Most people have sympathy for the ones who stop swimming.  I don't want sympathy, that's not what I am saying.  I am going to keep swimming, this is not a cry for help.  What I am saying is this... I haven't cracked yet... which is a small miracle.  That doesn't mean that I am unsinkable.  So please don't circle around me creating waves.  I feel like people around me, people that should know better or understand, are fucking jumping into my path... shouting "CANNONBALL!  SPLASH!  THESE WAVES ARE FUN!" Please don't make this harder for me. 

I put everyone into two categories.  Category one includes people that do not add to my heaping pile of shit, neutral people that do not cause me any unpleasant emotions which include a headache, an argument, guilt, grief, anger, rage, etc. Then there is everyone else, everyone else falls into category two.  Category two people are driving me insane.

I had a doctors appointment yesterday, a follow up from last months EKG appointment.  Great news, I dont have a heart arrhythmia, bad news... something happened and she doesn't like the way my heart beats.   So today I am walking around with a fucking box attached to me.  Monitoring my heart for 24 hours.  I should have asked more questions, but quite frankly, I stopped really giving a shit about 10 life crisis's ago.  I will deal with it when it needs to be dealt with. 

For several months, I have been dealing with my mortgage company.  Also known as the fucking Wizard of OZ.  Try to get anyone at that place to have the foggiest idea  of what is going on.  It's impossible. 
I have paid my mortgage payment every month, yet somehow I am showing as past due.  They show records of me making double mortgage payments.  I can assure everyone that that did not happen.  Now if your showing Im making double payments, how can you be showing that I am past due? 
 Me: Can I just pay the difference... Them: No. Me: HUH?  Them: No, we have to figure this out.  We will call you back in a few days.  (long period of time lapses) Me calling, harassing them.  Nothing.  Oh, because your account is "past due" (which it really isn't past due) when you call in, your call gets routed to your special account manager.  WHO NEVER ANSWERS THE FUCKING PHONE!  No, our house isn't going into foreclosure, for those a-holes that just read that and now want to start the rumor train that we're about to get evicted.  It's just one more thing to deal with.  One more exhausting thing.

I've just kind of had it.  I have no time to sit at home crying about my ovaries, because we are literally fucking sailing from one crisis to the next. 

I need a vacation, and right now, sitting in my closet blowing bubbles would be a vacation.