I found my breaking point today. Which breaking point? The one where I, from the depths of my soul, want to physically attack/maim/permanently scar another person in the Whole Foods parking lot.

I’m in physical therapy still and my foot hurts more while we’re strengthening the muscles, so I can walk less right now. I’m rationing walk time between showering, making my meals, walking to the car to take my mom to her doctor appointments, walking to the car to go to my doctor appointments, and whatever else. If you see me out, it’s because I “saved up” for days to look normal. I can’t take jobs because I usually end up going to meet clients and now I’m asking them to come to me because of my foot and they’ve said no. So I’m applying for General Relief, which requires walking down and up a giant hill and standing in lots of lines. Today I went to hand in the items I’ve gathered through walking to the physician, the bank, and Into the Woods. Not really the last part, but that’s what I feel like. The line wrapped around the building and I can’t physically stand there long enough to get help from the government. And I’ve called eight times over the past week and can’t reach anyone to make an appointment. I’ll figure it out, but today I am mad. Also we’ve been taking care of my Mama at our house since mid-November because she was going through a dangerous medicine change and because she was manic, and then depressed, and is now slowly doing better. Shane had no job for almost 3 months because he got laid off from his day job and his studio job kept getting postponed. Which is normal, but makes getting a filler day job hard when you would have to tell your boss you can only work there for 3 weeks. Also, I learned I’m codependent and have been going to meetings, which is helpful to have some hope that I can change the pattern of my life, but is truly hard and confusing work every minute. This week Shane’s studio job started a few days a week, I had two doctor appointments and the General Relief non-appointment, and mom had two doctor appointments in a different city and we were sharing one car. Driving everyone around that much hurts my old back injury. On a different note, our friend passed away last week. That is too serious and sad to include in the middle of all this. So I’ll continue talking about trivial things. Shane also got a cold, Mom got pink eye, and I got really mad at that lady in the parking lot.

After I was almost completely backed out of my spot, she showed up out of nowhere and nudged the nose of her car in my car’s butt. She blocked me in, in turn, blocking herself from going anywhere. There was no one behind her so she could have just backed up, but didn’t. I finished backing out by inching back and forth a couple times and then pulled out. Then she honked. Then the world turned black and I rolled down my window and, with the force of Grey Skull, yelled FUCK YOU. My throat doesn’t hurt. The wind tunnel that I became was fluid and strong. And then I wanted to get out and smash her collagen face. But there was a security guard so I couldn’t. Also, I think it would hurt my chances of not going to jail during my lifetime.

I came home and cried a lot. I hate that I feel bad about sticking up for myself, I hate that there are people that are so oblivious to others, and I hate that I felt so violent. So anyway, I’m losing it. Please send prayers. I’m patient, and I know I have to keep doing what I’m doing and get better little by little. But I don’t like it. And my tolerance glass is overflowing and spilling all over the place. Thanks for letting me bitch here. If you’ve read this far, please know that you listening is a replacement for that lady’s face being bashed in. Although, she may have liked another excuse to get more plastic surgery… Oops, I’m still angry. After all these words I’ve written! At least I’m less angry. Truly. I feel better. I needed to let that out. Thanks guys.

For those of you who hate long-winded, non-positive albeit truthful social media rants, please write one about how much you hate this one. That will cause someone else to write one and soon your nightmare will be reality. In all honesty, this is the shortest version I can write. This is as close to a Tweet as I can get. It’s too long and it barely says all that’s really happening. I need a more open and longer-voweled word to be more accurate about what this is. This is my Twaaat. If my Twaaat offends you, why are you still reading at this point? Watch this video instead: