Seriously?

Ok.

I just "graduated" therapy, stayed on the same meds for a whole month, and was completely successful at my marriage and my work by applying my problem solving skills to relationships. Woo! I haven't felt this good in YEARS.

And that's when shit hit the fan.

Within the past 24 hours, I have had to DOUBLE my Xanax, make a counseling appointment, and am considering other options if the Xanax doesn't work. I may also have had a little too much to drink last night.

Why?

1. I spent approximately 12 hours in the Atlanta airpot from Wednesday at 3:00 pm to Thursday at 3:00 am. 
2. My husband's father has moved in.

Number two is FAR more influential than number one. 

My language is very intentional. He is only my father-in-law in the strictest sense of the word. I am referred to by him as "[my husband's name]'s wife." I shit you not. Pretty sure he didn't even know my name until he got our wedding invitation.

He looks and acts like a homeless, toothless, angry Santa. He does not talk to me (which is actually preferable but makes things rather difficult). He will be referred to as Homeless Santa from now on. As I'm sure you can tell, I am not a fan. I'll explain why later.

He is currently living with us because he was kicked out of the husband's brother's house, and doesn't have power at his own house. How did we find this out? Not through Homeless Santa, but through Homeless Santa's brother, or the husband's uncle.  Homeless Santa was living without power for two+ days without power, despite desperately needing it because of medical needs.

Which ties in directly to why I dislike him:

• He doesn't take care of himself. This includes two stints in the hospital because he stopped breathing.
• After stopping breathing, he was diagnosed with COPD.
• After being diagnosed with COPD, he continued smoking.
• While continuing smoking, HE CAUGHT HIS FACE ON FIRE WHILE SMOKING WITH HIS OXYGEN MASK ON.
• Despite being morbidly obese he continues to drink Dr. Pepper and eat like shit.

All of this culminates in the fact that he is killing himself slowly (not softly) and doesn't give a shit what that is doing to his relationships with his sons. Homeless Santa is selfish beyond anyone I have ever encountered and has no plans to change. He doesn't want to. He is happy despite the fact that he could die tomorrow. The husband is actually surprised he hasn't died already.

Thus, the doubling of Xanax. I'm not convinced it's enough.

I'm at a loss. I'm so frustrated that just when things start to go well and I'm feeling stable, I feel like I'm sent back to square one in terms of dealing with anxiety. 

I suppose that this is what I "signed up for" when I was diagnosed with mental health issues. It is constantly adapting to new situations. 

Constantly. It is exhausting.

My last post was inspired by one of the most amazing people I know.  It was to make sure she knew she was loved and that it is worth it.

This time it's for me.

"It's worth it. It's worth it. It's worth it."