Thursday, July 28, 2011
I Suppose I Should've Seen This Coming
I know I've said it before - and I'll say it again. I am a hormonal mess. The good news is that I've FINALLY gotten it in check, (as much as I think is possible). The bad news is that every month, I get hit HARD - and I mean CRAZY HARD with about a 10 - 12 hour window where the world becomes the bleakest, saddest, most hopeless place imaginable. I wallow in self pity - and oftentimes decide that my husband is my punching bag. It's like Jekyll and Hyde - I go from being a wife who couldn't love her husband more, to wanting him to refrain from uttering a single word for fear that I might actually do something drastic, like threaten divorce for no reason whatsoever. (Oh - and by the way... I have, but of course, I've NEVER meant it). It truly was the hormones talking.
Yesterday was no exception - and I should've seen it coming. Perhaps you could tell from my blog post that something was off - not that I don't always have impatience and OCD to some extent, but certainly at "that time of the month" it goes from about a 3 on the Richter scale to a 10 in mere seconds. It's INSANE.
Anyway, so I was literally fine when I left work. In fact, I was in such good spirits that I complimented a girl in the elevator because she looked like she needed a pick-me-up.
Then, I got into my car, and proceeded to pull out of the parking space and BLAMMO. I whacked the front end of my car into a concrete pole, because I was parked in a different spot than usual, and just wasn't paying any attention. Now here's the thing. I had my last car for three years, and never got into an accident... no scratches, dents or dings - and it was in pristine condition when I turned it in.
That was a lease. I opted to buy this car, because I figured it was a good idea overall. Little did I know that there is some otherworldly force that makes every-other-car of mine a frickin' catastrophe waiting to happen.
Within one week of purchasing my new car, I was rear-ended. Then, a mere few months later, I somehow managed to hit the protective structure of a fire extinguisher. (Don't ask). Cut to today: I hit the concrete pole thingy in my office building - and now I've got yet another dent - and lots of unsightly white scrapes on the right front end of my car as well.
I haven't even owned this thing one full year - and there have already been three mishaps. WTF?!?!?
So I called John after surveilling the damage - and of course he was like, "no big deal," but this was the straw that broke the camel's back for me - and when I hung up the phone, I burst into tears and cried all the way home.
This of course snowballed into a series of self-pitying thoughts including the fact that my husband has to have surgery in a few weeks, we don't have life insurance (and I know it's totally morbid and weird to even be worrying about that), I can't lose my last 10 lbs no matter how hard I try, I'm jealous of all of my friends who constantly go on vacations, I want to eat the world, and somehow, I look like a big fat cow even though I just lost 20 lbs.
Fortunately, my husband saved the day, (as best as he could). I was about to start cooking dinner, and he offered to go get me wine and mediterranean food from one of my favorite local haunts.
Afterwards I apologized for being such a pain - acknowledging how messed up I get once a month - and admitted to essentially needing a punching bag - and he says - "It's as if you want a Death Star to blow up" which made me laugh - but only half-heartedly, because I knew he was right. He's the Death Star - and yes, I want to destroy it. I forewarned him to not fan the fire. So that's what my poor husband dealt with all night.
Now imagine me pregnant.
P.S. Still annoyed that I don't have my videos to post. UGH.