Overwhelmed

As always, I'm taking to my blog to vent.

Today has been one of the worst days, emotionally, that I've had in a long time. It started out okay, but it's getting worse and worse as the day goes on. In fact, I'm typing this while bawling my eyes out. Here's the story:

Over the past few days, I've noticed that our fridge is getting warmer and warmer. (By "past few days" I really mean since Sunday night). Last night I decided that I would call our apartment's maintenance team to see if they could try and fix it or just tell me that I'm being paranoid. It wasn't until Ryan texted me at lunch to tell me that the turkey in his sandwhich was rancid that I knew I was right. Maintenance came over to fix the fridge, a task that should be fairly simple, but ended up being the catalyst to the meltdown that I'm currently having. They opened up the freezer to find that the fan was frosted over, they took off the backing to find that the wire to the fan wasn't even plugged in (I wanted to scream because they were in there a few months ago fixing the fridge for the same reason, which means THEY were the ones that didn't plug it in. How it was even working, I don't know), and when the guy went to poke at it with his screwdriver, guess what? He shorted it out and caught the freezer on fire. Really?! So they take out everything from the freezer and fridge, and throw it wherever they can find an open piece of counter. All the while, the milk is spoiling, the chicken is getting mushy, and everything that was supposed to be frozen is now sitting in a pile of water. It took about 30 minutes for them to find a new fridge. One of the men asked if he could move all of the dining room stuff into the living room, so that they could have room to bring in a new fridge. No problem. The new fridge was brought in, and tell me why this is, HE DIDN'T EVEN PLUG IT IN BEFORE PUSHING IT TIGHTLY INTO THE NOOK!!!! Again, REALLY?! He grabbed his tools and left. Didn't bother to ask if I needed some help moving back the desk. Who cares that I have a back issue, right? So here I am, staring at all of our food going bad, a kitchen that looks like something blew up, and a living room that's full of random furniture that doesn't belong. This next small detail really got me. I figured I was grownup enough to move a fridge on my own, so as I go to pull it out, I grab the side of the fridge, only to discover that the entire left side is covered in some kind of oily, yellowish goop. I got it all over me!! Fine. That's it!! I'm not ashamed to say that the apartment is still sitting in the above-mentioned condition. I ran to the bedroom and started to bawl my eyes out. There's some back-story that I'm not sharing, but I'm just frustrated. It feels like Ryan's always at work, while I'm stuck at home dealing with all of these issues. I can't even begin to describe how badly I hate having to call EVERY DAY to fix something that shouldn't have happened in the first place. And anyone that I call (in my family) to get help, their solution is just "handle it." Okay, like I haven't already been handling it. Like all of this negative energy isn't draining me. Like constantly arguing with people over the phone to get things fixed doesn't make me feel lousy. OKAY. I'LL HANDLE IT!! Does everyone just assume that life is all hunky-dory, and that I'm just sitting around playing with kittens all day, having a blast? Because all I do everyday is clean, cook, and handle stupid issues. I don't know what term I'm looking for, so I'll just say it like this: being taken for granted. That's how I feel. I work so hard everyday to take care of these issues so that Ryan won't have to pile them on top of a full-time job, full-time school, and all of his stress. I put it on me so that he won't have to suffer. Well, apparently that was a bad idea.

I've stopped taking my anti-depressants (another back-story that I'm not getting into) and I'm seriously feeling like I'm at wits end. I find myself sitting around, crying for no reason. I'm constantly angry with the people around me. I'm super sensitive to the things that are said to me, not said to me, done to me, or forgotten about. (If that made any sense). I just hate this apartment so badly!

Well, I've cried myself into hysteria and sickness, so I'm going to curl up in bed now. Maybe the bright side is that I'll have to eat myself to death to save all of the frozen foods. Yeah, that sounds good. Comfort food is usually what makes me feel better in this situation, so I'll see if some mushy fries will help. Hopefully I don't end up at the hospital later tonight from causing the gallbladder attack that I can feel brewing. Thank goodness Ryan isn't here because I don't think he'd like seeing me this way.