The apathy is back & brought its friends anger and fear

I had a melt down last night. It started over an argument over bloody vegetables, of all things (I wanted more added to the casserole: Chebbar didn't; he ended up "caving" and adding more to "appease" me (my words, not his), which pissed me off more, for some reason). I took a shower while the casserole was in the over so I could calm down; instead, my ire grew. I was pissed the fuck off by the time I got out of the shower (sorry for the language: I was THAT mad). I stalked back into the kitchen spoiling for a fight. I was literally balanced on my toes, just waiting to lash out and strike at him (which is SO unlike the "normal" me).

Underneath the anger was a frisson of fear: I was scared, but I couldn't pin down what I was afraid of or why - I was just a big, whirling ball of angry fear. The emo-word-vomit started at that point...
I may not have a job after Christmas. Again. The last time this happened, I stressed myself into a three-month bout of insomnia and a good 25lb weight gain (that I still haven't managed to lose three years later). The thought of going through that again scares the hell out of me. In the four years we've been together, I've been the one to have a steady, reliable income: he didn't like hearing it, but I feel like I HAVE to have a job and I HAVE to provide for us (Chebbar's very old-fashioned and feels that HE should provide for ME - needless to say, multiple lay-offs have been hard on him, hence his return to school, us living on my income, and the disastrous fall-out if I do lose my job).

I decided to take a chance on myself and try to start my own business as a virtual assistant so I can work from home, be my own boss, and not be at the mercy of someone's retirement making me redundant. I can't even begin to express how freaking scary it is to do this: I don't have faith in myself. I never do. I'm a rampant anal-retentive perfectionist control freak - if I can't do it perfectly, I consider myself to be a massive failure, so taking the leap and doing this blind makes me want to vomit.

I'd like to contact my dad with questions about starting my own (home-based) business to see if he has any tips for me. However, I can see him mentioning it to my brother, who will likely mention it to my mother, who will be butt-hurt that I didn't tell her myself. It's not that I don't want to tell her, I just don't feel like talking to her (or anyone, for that matter) at all right now (see: the apathy).

I'm jealous of Mom's rekindled relationship with her mother. I'm jealous that the woman who abused my mother from birth is getting her time and attention. I'm also hurt that this woman doesn't appear to give a rip that she has nothing to do with me. And then it pisses me off that I'm hurt in the first place: she's toxic and I'm GLAD to have her out of my life, so why am I hurt, for crying out loud?

My paternal grandmother left a message. On Tuesday. That I didn't return because I was busy making the second dish for his second potluck lunch at school. While he sat on his ass playing something on the Xbox. I didn't call her back last night because I was in the midst of losing my shit. I had a case of the "shoulds" (I should call her), but didn't care enough to do it. Now I'm feeling guilty as hell that it's been two days and I STILL don't feel like calling her back - I just don't feel up to the conversation, y'know?

I've been on antidepressants for a year now (a year and ten days, to be precise). Even though I'm a fierce defender of mental health and destigmatizing medication, I looked at Chebbar last night with fear in my eyes and asked what happens if I'm NEVER "better"? If I'm on them for the rest of my life? When he replied with "so what if you are?" I burst into tears (again). I vacillate between thinking I'm okay enough to try to wean off them to being scared shitless of the day that my doctor suggests the same thing - I don't KNOW If I'm okay or if I will be without them.

I'm tired of putting everyone and everything ahead of myself. I'm tired of always being last (when I even rate being on my list). The awful thing is that *I* put myself in that position - IF anyone expects to always have his or her needs met first and immediately, it's because *I* have allowed that for, well, my whole life. I feel like it's on me to do everything and be everything to everyone, all the time.

I think the scariest part of the break down was the feeling of wanting to hurt myself - not in a suicidal way: in a self-harming way. I was clenching my teeth to keep myself from screaming or crying, and all I wanted to do was keep clenching them until they shattered. I had the urge to take my fingernails and rake them all over myself until I was bloody, not as some form of release or relief, but to PUNISH myself (for what, I don't know).

I just want to go to sleep for a month until everything has blown over. My stress and anxiety are at an all-time high and I'm not managing well (my dermatillomania is completely out of control: I can't go more than an hour or two without picking at my skin). I've made an appointment to see my doctor next Tuesday. I'm scared to talk to her, to 'fess up, because I know she'll tell me (again) that I need to see a therapist (which I know and wholeheartedly agree with), but it's just not in the cards at the moment, between schedules and cost. I'm treading water, but I'm barely keeping my head above water.