4:20 p.m. - 2006-07-31
Bad Days, Good Days
If my blog was instead a cheesy reality show, you can bet the producers would have chosen that god-awful and extremely overplayed song "Bad Day" as the background music for today's entry.
I'm fine now. My bad day was last Friday, and it's over. It's not even like anything truly awful happened. But I had had a really stressful week at work, and one thing led to another, and by early that afternoon, I had screamed like a lunatic at one of my staff on the phone, and then was sobbing. Also, my cell phone died -- like, just DIED -- and I had to go to Verizon to have some minimum-wage, couldn't-give-a-shit employee confirm the same for me, while helpfully pointing out that this would be a great time to update to a newer (read: more expensive) phone.
I apologized profusely to the manager I yelled at, BTW. And I left early because I just couldn't deal with the day anymore. I got home, took off my too-tight maternity jeans, flopped on my bed, and just cried my eyes out. My cat Ginger came to see what was wrong, and in the most heartbreakingly endearing way, licked a tear off my face, which just made me cry harder. It was one of those times where I just couldn't get over myself. I cried for all the silly "poor me" reasons, and then felt guilty for that, so I cried for upsetting my poor unborn baby, and I cried for my friend's sister's soon-to-be-born baby who might have serious, life-threatening health complications after birth. Then I cried for my friend's niece, who had just been diagnosed with leukemia the day before. I cried because I was supposed to go to my friend Katie's going-away party that night, but knew that in my state, I wasn't going to be able to go, and then I cried harder, thinking about how much I'll miss her now that she's moved to Boston. And then I got a wicked headache and started to feel dehydrated, so I stopped crying. Sometimes, no matter how badly you want to get over something, you can't -- you must succumb to the awful-ness, no matter how petty or silly you'll think it is later. The only cure in that case is the absence of daylight and eight or so unconscious hours. Which is what I prescribed for myself, and true to my prediction, I was all better by Saturday morning.
I'm still stressed and still tired (perhaps in part to my persistent, iron supplement-resistent anemia, which my OB just told me I still have), but I'm way better than I was. I spent the weekend baking cookies and eating ice cream and putting together Pumpkin's room and burning my fat arse at the pool and spending time with our friends Amy and Ryan, and I'm all better now.
