The less I seek my source for some definitive, the closer I am to fine

I feel better this morning, even though I'm sniffling and wheezing with allergies.  I'm trying to clean my filthy house and I have to sit about every ten minutes to breathe.  There must be some way to circumvent this without hiring a maid.  I'm open to ideas.

Yesterday I hit my rage point again.  I know I'm being a nutcase, I'm difficult to talk to, and I'm bitchy, but I'm also intensely anxious about everything lately.  I worry about money all the time and that is stupid because I'm better off right now than I've ever been but next year is looking like it might take a toll on my savings and that makes me so nervous I cannot sleep at night.  My funding is gone for DU (and thus my insurance also), I have only part-time work, and the only gig I could get for summer pays shit and that is particularly disturbing given my education level.  I had a great potential job lined up via interview for today, but they called me yesterday afternoon to say they'd called off the search for a new faculty member.  After they wasted hours and hours of my time preparing to wow them, too.  I was angry and now I feel deflated by it.  I shouldn't, of course, and logically I know that something else will come up, and that everything will be fine because it always is - or it isn't, neither of which I believe I have much control over.  

I confronted my mother also about asking me about my meds.  She of course deferred it to her "mind not working" so well these days and said she meant nothing by it.  But, as I feared, she immediately began talking about her various ailments and complaints, diminishing mine, and then proceeding to subtly berate me by saying that she wouldn't need to snoop into my life if I ever talked to her.  "But then again, you never really did open up to me about things," she said.  I realize that as a person in my mid-thirties, I need to get over the way I was raised and move on, but lately I've been so angry about things.  Ever since I went to those whopping five therapy sessions, I have realized that so much of what created my varied neuroses are the fault of my upbringing by these two people.  It's clear that they are human and thus fallible, and I don't fault them for the choices or errors they made per se; what I guess I want as an adult is some reconciliation about these things.  I want to hear, "yeah, we really fucked that up.  Sorry about that."  Instead I get, "we did the best we could."  It's not the same thing.  I hope when my daughter gets old enough to resent things I've done wrong, I will have the courtesy to apologize to her for them and not make excuses for the things I completely blew it on.  

But today is another day and at least I'm properly caffeinated.  I'm still irritable, but I'm alone in the house which means I can take it all out on scrubbing floors and bathtubs and no one gets hurt.