And so it begins. . .

For those who know me, the fact that I have commitment issues won't surprise you. Well, it's more like financial commitment issues. I had panic attacks for three days after signing the note on my car. And now I'm buying a house. . . oh, boy. I did well for most of the week. Sometime after the Titans game (Go, Titans!), I started getting that tight feeling in my chest. And now it is full blown panic. I can feel it all over. Can't sit still. Can't focus. Edgy, panicky. I hate this. I hate that I get that way. Especially when I should be packing. But every time I start, I start feeling overwhelmed by the idea of it. I don't know when I close, so I don't even have a deadline looming. I forgot to get packing paper, so I can't pack the breakables. I don't know where to keep the boxes after I pack them. Not to mention, Piper the fat cat keeps eating the boxes.

What's not helping is not really having someone to talk to about it. My friend B just had her second child. The first one is just two, so she definitely has things on her mind. Friend M has things going on. Friend R - well, he has his normal schedule which means he's pretty much unavailable most of the time. And unfortunately, he's the one that I usually run to first.

There's other stuff, too. My parents (one set of them) are in danger of losing everything, thanks to the economy and some, quite frankly, stupid decisions. At their age, they should have been putting money away instead of doubling the size of the house, buying brand new $35000 vehicles, and all new appliances, when the old ones still had a year's warranty on them. Top it off some foreign trade shutting off imports, and they are in serious trouble. I'm hoping, praying (as they are), that this will change soon. Otherwise, my brand new house won't be just mine. I'll have my parents and teenage sister living with me. Yes, it's that bad.

And to top it all off, this guy that I sometimes go out with stopped by last night. He brought something up, completely innocent, that brought back some very old, and very bad memories. Memories that still, to this day, can cause me to wake up screaming in the night, terrified and only remembering parts of the dream. Just like I only remember parts of what happened. I'm actually grateful for not remembering, don't get me wrong. But I try very hard not to think about it. He didn't know that it was a subject that would bother me. He still doesn't. It's not something you can share easily. But sleep didn't come easily last night, and like I said, I've been uneasy all day.

I'll stop here. Jeez, I've probably depressed anyone who reads this. But when the friends aren't available for a post house-purchase whine, there's always the internet. Right?