Imprisoned

Ok. Ok. Ok.

I just have to keep breathing. Right. Breathing. Breathing is good.

We were supposed to leave New Mexico this morning. We were supposed to hop in the car and drive away. I certainly wasn't looking forward to the 16 hour drive, but it was TIME. Time to go home. You see, we've been hanging out with my parents for a week. We've been with them for SEVEN straight days in a row. It's been ok. Difficult, and sometimes challenging, but ok. I'll provide more details at a later date. About 48 hours ago though, I started to hit the wall. Apparently, I had one nerve left and everyone was poking it. I just kept telling myself "Friday morning, you get to go home. Home. Friday morning. You."

And now we're snowed in. It snowed a foot last night.

When I opened the curtains this morning, I thought I was going to puke. It didn't help that I had a fitful night of sleep filled with nightmares. There's one nightmare that sticks out in my mind: My parents and I were on a boat trip. We stopped at some island where my father proceeded to piss off all the natives. We left, and then, for some reason, I went back later in the day. They recognized me and since they were mad at my father, they locked me in their prison and tortured me. When I finally got out, I refused to speak to my father.

When I told my husband about my dream this morning, he frowned and looked at me.

"That sounds like you're close to the breaking point." He said.

"Movie." I said, shaking. So we're going to watch a movie now.

God. Damn. Labile. Emotions.