Friday, January 21, 2011

A very bad morning.

This morning, alone with no witness other than the cats (and they're not talking), I threw a tantrum so epic it would leave a three-year-old in awe.

I got out of bed late. I'm just getting over a cold, but had a growing suspicious that I woke up this morning with a UTI. (As of 1029L, I have discarded this suspicion.) This left me feeling very cranky. Then I went to get dressed, and could not bear the thought of wearing a layer of thermals under my uncomfortably snug ABU pants. Even tucking in my shirt this morning was uncomfortable. I could have buttoned all four buttons with no problem, but buttoning just one was unbearable. I didn't want to be wearing anything that would be tight around my crouch, because of my UTI suspicions.

I had to pee AGAIN, and unbottoned my pants and nearly ripped them off in frustration. I was on the verge of tears out of nowhere, and suddenly all I could think was that I would once again fail my PT test this weekend, that I had no energy or motivation or desire to do anything ever again, that I hate my uniform and being in the reserves and just being me in general, that I was fat and ugly, and that it was no wonder I miscarried, because I'm such a big unhealthy mess of a girl.

As I forced my pants back on, I left my shirt untucked and began to cry and scream and rage. A logical part of my brain thought for a moment that it might be a good idea to swing by mental health today to talk to someone. But I quickly dismissed this idea. I cannot bear to discuss the miscarriage, or my feelings concerning it. I'm amazed that I'm even bringing it up here. I'm sure one of my two readers will tell me that yes, I should go talk to someone, but it's not happening. I would advise another person in my shoes of the same thing; but I've never been very good at taking my own advice.

I felt the tears stream down my cheeks, and it was then I snapped out of it. I thought, I'm about to go out into single-digit temperatures to clean off my car; I can't have tears on my face, they'll freeze! (I never said my thought processes make sense.) I calmed down, cleaned off my car, and headed to work.

There was no trace of tears as I rolled thru the gate and struggled to roll down a frozen window. There was no sign of distress as I swung by my regular day job for a cup of a joe and quick chat with Canuck and Ears. And by the time I walked into the wing staff area, you'd never have known that I'd thrown an award-wining tantrum to put Russell Crowe to shame.

But then, I've always worn the best masks.


Monica said...

Tempertantrums are sometimes the best therapy.


kiran said...
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