Dysfunction

Considering changing the name of my blog to "Another Dysfunctional Not-As-White-As-You'd-Think Girl".
Or something.
My Facebook status is currently set to "Don't worry. It's not MY blood." (Thank you, Bloggess, for giving me phrases like this to replace my usual sour snark with. It is very much appreciated. At least by me.)
Because it's Sunday night, the man I love dearly is passed the F out, an eight hour drive away and all my insecure little girl voices are running laps in my head shouting out random possibilities to see which one can freak me out and make me give up on sleeping.
EVER.
I've had not one but TWO exes try to guilt-trip me into going back with them this weekend, and, surprisingly, neither were of the variety I was ever married to.
My service dog is curled up behind me on the couch, my tattoo artist/friend is dealing with his baby mama, my photographer/former co-worker/friend is having a bad night of his own, my best girl friend is working (and roughly five months pregnant), and my cat is laying at my feet sleeping better because I'm not sleeping at all.
Bastard.
I've already taken one dose of my valerian root-passion flower extract/supplement combo which has managed to get me to the point of at least picturing getting all stabby on those insecure little bitches in my head, but not enough so that I've managed to shut them the F up.
I once joked (half joked) that I'm going to re-name Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder "Post-Tremendous Shit Disorder" because it just seems to get the point across to the ignorant fucks in my daily life much more quickly. Rape, child abuse, abusive relationships, etc., etc., et-f'ing-cetera have taken their toll, I had no say in it, and I would have preferred combat to living in this day-to-day crap unsuccessfully. Life-or-death I can handle. Your garden variety stupidity, stress and ignorance, not so much. I don't really give a F if my bills are paid on time, because I know from experience that I can live without electricity, without gas, without whatever- to include a roof over my head. I tend to prefer not to, so I pay my bills. That doesn't mean the idiot telling me I'm screwing up my entire life because I "don't want to get better" and live the life he's chosen for himself is worth the oxygen he is currently stealing from people who would be a much better use of it.
So, yes, I'm getting all freaking stabby tonight, because I know the brand of stupidity I will be forced to deal with tomorrow all too well, and it doesn't seem to be getting any easier.
And no, I'm not sure if the anger issues are part of my personality or the Post-Tremendous Shit Disorder. I can't separate the two anymore. Thank you for asking- NOW LEARN TO USE YOUR F'ING BLINKER, DICK WEED!!!