[See part 1 of this story here.]

Checking into a hotel is normally a fairly simple process. Except when your brain has had a spaz and screws you over in the process.

This night in a hotel was courtesy a gift card I got for Christmas 2009 and hadn’t used yet. (I know, dumb. You’re welcome to slap me.) I looked at two websites in trying to find the hotel’s reservation number – the first was a hotel booking site and the second – the one I wanted – was the hotel’s site. I found the number and called to book the room, giving the friendly man on the other end of the line my credit card number when he asked for it to hold the room. At no time during this conversation did he say he was going to charge the card or that it was non-refundable. <Insert ominous music here>

I discovered my brain spaz when I told the woman at reception I’d be paying with the gift card. She informed me the room was prepaid through another company so I couldn’t use it.

I distinctly remember looking at the hotel booking site and discarding it. I distinctly remember looking at the hotel’s site – the branding, the hotel features, the drop-down menu with the property I was looking for. I have no idea how I screwed it up but this was absolutely the last thing I needed. I didn’t want to have to argue about it. I didn’t want to have to sort it out. And I didn’t want to suck it up and just pay for the room and use the gift card later.

I called the company and informed them I didn’t realize I was booking through another company, that I never agreed to have my card charged and that I certainly didn’t agree to – in fact, wasn’t informed about – a non-refundable booking. The oh-so-helpful response? “But it’s non-refundable.”

Force down panic, repeat story. Demonstrate full will of a mama struggling to hold her shit together instead of completely losing it in a hotel lobby:  “I DON’T CARE. FIX IT NOW.”

Last weekend was just too much. What was originally intended to be a nice break had become, truly, an escape. I need to go somewhere and close the door behind me and not talk to anyone. I need to figure out what’s going on in my head that’s allowing these waves to keep crashing over me, totally unexpectedly. I need him to fix it.

He fixes it.

The woman at reception must sense I’m on the edge, because she upgrades me to a room with a king bed and a harbour view. And then, embarrassingly, I do start to cry.

Once I get into the room things are better. I drink Coke with ice in a wine glass and that alone makes me feel like I’m somewhere else. I read a bit, write a bit, breathe a bit. I listen to music. When I’m feeling more calm, I throw on my workout gear and get sweaty. I pull up one workout on my computer and when that’s done I do another one. Exercise is a sure thing, every time, and when I’m done I feel like me again.

The rest of the night was heaven – a carpet picnic, a hot shower, pajamas and cozy socks. A conversation with a dear friend who called to make sure I was okay on my own. A delicious chocolate dessert while I sat at the desk looking out at the lights coming on around the harbour. A solid sleep in a bed with fluffy covers and puffy pillows.

I am grateful for this. I am. I can afford to do this for a night and I have a husband who is not only supportive, he tells me to go. I have a laptop I can take so I can read and write and stay connected.

I sat there that night and took deep breaths and felt that gratitude wash over me. But behind it the usual tension was still there – a tightness in my shoulders, a twitchy foot and a brow that remained furrowed so that in the morning I woke up with what appeared to be a permanent crease in my forehead.

The events of Saturday, including a call to the psychiatrist at 10 at night, led me to what I sincerely hope is rock bottom. Things cannot continue like this – it’s been over two years. Almost three. I’ve taken so many steps that seem like the right ones and it doesn’t feel like it’s getting better.

Maybe this new medication will kick in (please oh please) and things will start to improve. But it’s clear to me now that I need to take charge of this. I need to do something different. I need to do something more.

So that’s what I’m going to do. As of this morning, the wheels are in motion. Stay tuned.