What if your kid starts biting people?

Upstairs neighbors who went to the condo board to voice their concerns about  my dog instead of talking to me had a baby a few months back. HDS and I opened the door to leave on Sunday and the dad, his grandmother, and other various adults were in the hall. My dog ran out barking and snarling. I ran out and got my dog, picked him up, and carried him back inside (he's 14 lbs). He didn't bite anyone. But my neighbor still lost his shit. "There are laws against this." I lost my shit in tears.

HDS and I had been on our way to lunch with my mom, who suggested a gate for when we open the door so there is no way my dog can run out in the future. I had the gate up already when a police officer came by later in the day. My neighbors called the police. They don't  talk to me, they go to the condo board and then they call the police. When they were dog sitting, I was there when their furry charge got out off  her leash. I reattached and tightened the harness for them. My dog escapes for an instant and they call the police.

I'm terrified. I don't  know what to do. I keep him on his leash, muzzled in the presence of others, and we've been working our butts off on training. But he is my dog and I love him so much and he isn't going to kill anyone and he's a complete sweetheart, joy, treasure, necessity in my life. He is not a pit bull or a thing or  a gun. I'm so scared my neighbors will go after him and I see the huge unfairness and uncaring of situations  like these and it crushes me into a little ball of chalkiness.

Friday we go to Nashville.
Monday I  go to  the hospital.
When will this anxious, sinking feeling go away?

I am the only person in the universe who knows the right answer and perfect method for everything

Brunch at my parents' house this morning so we could see my ex-uncle's brother's family. My father was in "I will do everything myself and it will be perfect" mode (the factory setting he's been stuck in since birth, I think). His sister's family expects it and lives to a similar standard, but not this branch of demi-family. They live in Cleveland, for God's sake.

I've been doing much better lately seeing my family in smaller doses and being grateful for their positives and the fact they don't beat me. But it seems I can only take so much before it starts translating into physical pain, even with all the changes in diet and lurking off to the bathroom to give myself booster shots of morphine-grade pain killer.

Ultimately, I don't want to lead the sort of life they lead or consider optimal for a person to lead, but I still have the biological urge for my parents to be proud of me. I guess my house will always have to be cleanest when I invite over the family, and sooner or later I'll learn that I can still have friends if my outfits and my plates don't all match.

worry, boy

I'm feeling weird and panicky. I've been this way since Saturdayish. At first I thought it was Boy-related, but now I think it's just me. Medication? Hormones? Something I'm not doing that I know I need to do but have crammed below my consciousness? I used to get this way over that last category, but I'm not finding it right now. I've been eliminating those dark clouds, not creating more of them. So the Panic may be chemical. Blech.

It started with The Boy. But I'm thinking Possible Boy may not be so much anymore. I'm slipping into a status member of his fanclub, and our interactions are reminding me more and more of the bad parts of some of my Boys past. I caught myself starting to revel in the yearning that had nothing to do with Possible Boy himself, meanwhile back in reality he's so completely unsure about anything that I had to ask myself if the struggle was worth it. I'd gotten my hopes up for plans yesterday that never happened, and I'm ignoring an entire world's worth of Possibility prematurely for a Boy who isn't even doing me the same favor. Fuck it. He can keep a glimmer of possibility, but I'm taking my hopes and dreams back. He never asked for them in the first place.

NBF finally booked his ticket. He shows up Saturday.

I'm worried about my dog. That's a real worry. He's been chewing on himself a lot and we never went to the cardiologist. I wanted to get reimbursed from his doggy health insurance for his last round of ailments before having to dole out hundreds for new things, but there may not be a choice.

Seriously, stomach, shut up. I have to go spend 8 hours in a hot auction room as soon as I convince myself to put on clothes and make a final phone call or two. Do I dare pop my lorazepam? I'm already so overmedicated, but this is exactly what it's meant to "fix."

WTF

Let's play a game. I call it "Why am I having an anxiety attack?" Ready?
Why am I having an anxiety attack?
I'm PMSed and somewhat stressed, but that really shouldn't do it. Stupid body. Stupid brain. Stupid Annabell.