The (Mental) Struggle is Real

The other day I went to an amusement party with bf and his family. Which theme park serves no real relevance to this tale, but it is one with a parade in the evening. A parade that draws a significant crowd that makes walking to and from places all but impossible. Now, bf’s family wanted to watch said parade but like many parades there was no room unless you wanted to cram into three feet of roped-off sidewalk. Well, now, I had done such a great job all day not freaking out, what with the constant stream of people bumping into one another. I was so proud of me.

But then some b**** d*** steering a stroller ran over my foot. Then some b**** decided to put their hand on me to direct me out of their way. That’s when I stated to lose it. Thank Jesus, though, my psychiatrist had prescribed me a quick-fix in case of emergencies. Although they didn’t work quick enough to keep me from almost bursting into tears in front of bf’s sisters when a poor employee asked if I planned to cram myself in with the crowd.  If I had cried I think I’d have freaked out everyone.

So that was that. I never thought about it much until January, but I’m going to have to pay for my own insurance soon and I’m wondering it it’d be worth it just to keep up my prescription. I hate going to doctors but like my psychiatrist. Life sucks and I have no idea what will happen in this new world of ours.

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