SO why do I feel like I am being buried alive?

I have cried about one thing or another every day for the last 2 weeks. This latest episode has put me nearly over the edge.

I have my paycheck directly deposited into my checking account. I have for over a year. Never a problem. By doing so, I get my money a day earlier than those who don't. and sometimes 2 to 3 days earlier if payday falls on a Sunday or a holiday. It's gotten so I sometimes don't even check to see if it's there.

My mistake.

My check SHOULD have been deposited on Friday the 13th. Yeah. I assumed it had been. All the next week, we have been plotting a major birthday bash for the Pitbull. I love doing things for her, and the people I love. I'm going to write more about it, but ONE of the things we did for her was an over night office make-over, ala "While You Were Out."

On Tuesday night I went out to Christmas shop. My bank card was refused. Embarrassed but adamant, I had them try a variety of things, to no avail. I went to the ATM to check my account, which should have had more than $2,000 and it said that I was $650 OVERDRAWN. And since it was after 6pm, there was no one I could call.

The next morning, Wednesday, I called my payroll office. They said that they had been notified by my bank that my account number had changed, and they made the correction and deposited it into the newly numbered account. They began a little chastisement of how I should keep them informed about changes, but I exploded and curtly told them that there was no such change in my bank account. Silence on the other end of the line.

I spent most of Wednesday crying, going back and forth between anger (how dare they make a change without checking with me) and paranoia (was this a random act of hackers/theft, or was I a specific target?). The company we use (Paychex) kept insisting, quite rudely, that they had spoken with my bank, and the money was there. I'd call my bank and I'd be told that no, it WASN'T there. This went on until I gave the Paychex person my bank number, and the extension of the poor guy that I'd been crying to. They promised to call me back. At 5:05, I'd received no such call. I tried to call them and got a recording informing me that they had closed. I got hysterical. I looked up on the net the national number, and called there. Some poor guy in New York listened to me sobbing about how, through no fault of mine, I had no money for Christmas. He gave me an emergency 24 hour number to the office I'd been talking to, and promised he'd report the problem. I called that number, requested the extension of the jerk I'd been working with, and of course got her voice mail. I left a blasting message and included the fact that I'd just been in touch with her corporate office. She called me back a few minutes later, and asked me why I had given her the number for TCF Bank. Duh. That's my bank, I informed her. Oh.

Oh?

Well, SHE had been talking all day to a bank that was in Ottawa. Ottawa? Would that be Ottawa Illinois or Ottawa Canada? Illinois. And WHY would she be talking with that bank? Because, apparently, THAT'S the bank that had my money.

None of this made sense. How would this bank have my name? Why would they accept my check? Of course the answer from Paychex was that this is where they had sent every one of my checks all along, she was looking at my account on her screen. It so happened I had several of my paycheck stubs with me and I could assure her that she was WRONG. All done, of course, through sobs. Add to my hysteria the additional paranoia due to the fact that my mother's relatives all live in Ottawa Illinois...

AND add to that the fact that I was supposed to go out right then and get ll of the supplies for the office make-over which was going to run in the hundreds. I thought I might write a paper check. That might have worked but by the time I got out of my office, it was 8:40 pm and when I got to Menards, they were locking up. They close at 9. Same with Home Depot. Fucking Cinderella Story. I went home in tears, and didn't sleep at all.

Well. Come Thursday morning, I get in to the office, all red eyed. I get a call from my payroll department with an apology. It seems as though there is new employee named IbeNotPiglet and she got our names confused and put the wrong account number on my deposit. Ok. An honest mistake was made. Maybe now I can get my money and sleep, huh? Nah.

I had a choice. I could go and get a check, but if I deposited it, my bank would hold it for 48 hours until it cleared. OR, I could wait for Paychex to re-deposit it, and I would have it by Friday morning. I went with the Paychex way, figuring I'd write a paper check for the office materials that we needed THAT NIGHT!

I told a bold-faced lie to the Pitbull. I told her I had to go to my bank and sort it all out. I felt horribly guilty that she was so quick to understand and believe me and allowed me to go. I HAD to get the materials so we could start the second she left.

So now, after no real sleep, I return to work to make over Pitbull's office, safe in the knowledge that my money would be available the next (Friday) morning. By the way, all of those 2-day makeover shows can kiss my fat ass. We worked steadily from 2:30 pm until 2:30 am. I got to bed about 3:15am and had to be up at 6:15 am.

I got up, and the reveal was wonderful. As good as it gets. We did good. My payroll office called and told me to make sure then money was deposited in my bank. I did. It was. I left work on Friday in a no-sleep-induced stupor. I watched the video of the da's events, and took some NyQuil. I said good night at 4:00 pm and slept until noon on Saturday.

Before I went out to finish my shopping, I checked my balance. THE MOTHER FUCKING MONEY WASN'T THERE!!!!

MOTH was out already doing his shopping. I called my bank, barely audible through my tears. They looked me up and said that yes, the money HAD been deposited, but then the deposit was reversed. REVERSED?!?!?!?!!

I couldn't call Pitbull, it was her birthday and she couldn't do anything about it anyway. But I did call our CEO who has assured me that I will get a hand-drawn check first thing Monday and I will be escorted to THEIR bank and they will make sure I get the CASH IN HAND. A full week late.

And that is how it stands now. And here I sit, in a pool of tears, unable to see tomorrow, and unable to just relax. I cry at the drop of a hat. MOTH has left the house twice because of my mood, wisely deciding not to risk an argument. The kids just try to ignore me, but it hurts them to see me cry. Hell, it hurts ME to cry this much.

I am on the edge, hell I'm half-way over the edge. I used to love this holiday, I think I still do. But everything...the lights, the music, the gifts...everything makes me cry. And it's stupid.

My money will be in my hands tomorrow. It's more than many people make, I know that. I have all of my kids home, safely. I have MOTH. I have so much to be thankful for. I learned today that johnniev and his intended are no more. Why didn't I know that? Because my head was up my ass. And adwhore is dealing with the death of a friend and it looks like she is headed for a dysfunctional family holiday, but she's not falling apart. Read cleopatragb. She is facing the end of a relationship and just found out that her grandmother is facing lung cancer. And she is hopeful and upbeat and able to find positive news in her life.

So what the hell is wrong with me? Why do I have to battle with depression at this time of all times? The feeling of being buried alive is simply overwhelming. And I don't have a way out. Maybe I can sleep through the next few weeks so I won't ruin the holiday for everyone.

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