A random, eclectic mix of thoughts, feelings, observations, and experiences – LIFE

Posts tagged ‘feelings’

I’m so… I’m so… MAD.

Yesterday, I was LIVID. Actually, “livid” is too polite-sounding a word for what I was. I was PISSED. STEAMING. I’m talking about the heart pounding out my chest, unable to think clearly type of thing. Fuming. Like, I was actually going insane.

Without going into specifics, I was completely disrespected. I felt like chopped liver or something. I was upset. Ever had something so upsetting happen that you want to cry, yell, and throw things at the same time? No? Just me? Okay, fine.

I sat for a while, pretending that I wasn’t upset. I actually had interior dialogue with myself. I told myself that I wasn’t upset. I tried to convince myself to chill. Meanwhile, things were going on. Things that I did not like. As I sat there, trying to remain calm.

Eventually, I just thought, This is stupid. I have to say something. So I did. I thought I was calm enough, after I pep-talked myself, but I wasn’t. I started off very calmly. Steady voice. Volume controlled. Next thing I knew, I was almost yelling. Then I got a finger up in my face (The one that says, “Hold on a minute.”), and I wasn’t having it. I had things to say. All that I was feeling and trying to not only hide, but DENY, boiled over. I’m talkin’ some real nasty, bubbling olive green, gooey liquid stuff. With chunks in it. It was ugly.

I don’t even know how it happened, but in a flash, I was at the door, jamming my running shoes on. It was time to take FLIGHT. The calm of the person addressing me didn’t help. I think it helped to enrage me. All I was thinking was, Don’t you GET it?! Then came the shushing. People. When I am upset, one of the worst things you can do is SHUSH me. It does not go well. Even if I should realize that a little old lady is sitting right beside us, I see shushing (in that moment) as YOU telling ME that acting cute is more important than clearing things up/expressing myself. No bueno, y’all. I think I said something like, “No! No!” and then left.

Seriously, it’s a good thing I already had clothes on. It wasn’t until I down the street that I looked down at myself. The tiny part of my brain that was still rational probably sighed in relief. I was wearing long yoga pants and a tank. No socks. I skipped the socks. No cap. And my hair. was NOT. done. I could not care less. I walked like a crazy person going to beat someone dowwwwwnnnnn.

At some point, I calmed down enough to sit down on some steps. Once I sat there, I realized that my heart was still POUNDING. It was practically in my throat. I felt hot all over. My breathing was nutty. I had to very intentionally callllmmm myself the heck down. I called my cousin and pretty much said, “I am SO MAD RIGHT NOW!” Then, FINALLY, the tears came. My poor cousin. She was alarmed, and thought she needed to leave work and come get me. I convinced her that I was fine, and she just stayed on the phone with me, telling me to calm down, and that everything would be fine. God love her, the girl always gets the brunt of my crazy. I should also mention that I called my brother and told him that I’m a psycho, and I’m looking for someone to beat the %^&* out of someone else. And I will NOT be disrespected. He calmly said, “Ok. I’ll call you when I leave work.” Gotta love it. And no, I haven’t made any arrangements of the sort. Yet. Kiddiiiiing. Or not.

The rest of the day went by quietly. I had little, if anything, to say. I had no appetite, so I just sat around. I tried to be productive, but it didn’t work out. I managed to critique one piece of work for someone. Thankfully, I’d already read critiques on my own work and written a new short piece before the drama unfolded, so the day wasn’t a total loss. I fell asleep watching a movie, but woke up in the middle of the night. I was awake for hours, uncomfortable, sad, and wishing I could talk. I just couldn’t. I just wrote.

Today, I’ll be doing some work for my cousin. I think he just needs me to run some errands – bill paying, banking, and fun junk like that. I think it’ll be good for me to focus on something else, and get some fresh air. Hopefully, my mother will bring the car soon. I haaate being on the road in high traffic times. It makes me a very not-fun person, and let’s face it. I don’t need to be any less fun right now.

How about you? How is your week going? What are you doing today? What do you do when you are off-your-rocker crazy mad? Have you ever had someone beat up?

Therapy Post

Never too many flowers for Grammy. The wreaths completely covered her grave. But we'll keep her memory uncovered. Never to be forgotten.

It’s been a while, I know. I’ve had quite a rough time. I would like for it to end. I really thought that Saturday would bring it to a close, and I would go to sleep, and magically, on Sunday morning, all would be right with the world. No.such.luck. I woke up, yes. But nothing was right. I felt out of it. I still had a killer headache. I curled up on the couch and just slept. I read a little, but mostly? I just slept. I woke up when it was past the time that I should have been on the road, on my way to the weekly FamJam. I refused to be early. I didn’t want anyone to talk about it.

I didn’t want to hear how beautiful the service was. I didn’t want anyone to mention how “good” she looked. How good could she look, laying in a box? I mean, there’s no denying that she was a beautiful woman. Beyond beautiful. But don’t insult me. Or her. Don’t say she looked good, laying there, dead, in a really expensive, beautiful box. No. I don’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to hear people tease about how my mother went up with her twin brother to read a responsive prayer, but didn’t actually read anything. I didn’t want anyone to jest about anything. It was a funeral. It was somber. It was a rough time for everyone. There is really no need to rehash it.

I didn’t want anyone to comment on the fact that a lot of dignitaries were present. My uncle is kind of a big deal here, so yes, ministers of the gospel and ministers of government departments were there. I didn’t want people to say how good the Prime Minister looked for a change. Or how nice it was for the Deputy Prime Minister to attend, although he was on crutches. Or how the political divide was absent as the leader of the Opposition was also there. I didn’t want anyone to go on and on about how respected my uncle must be, to have so many people in their uniforms there, in support of him. Or my sister’s coworkers who were also there in a large number, uniformed. Or my mother’s friends who were not in uniform, but were there, nonetheless. They were there to help me from the graveside to the car. To tell me that things would be okay. To remind me to be strong for my mother. To give warm hugs. To assure me that I could call them any time. How kind, to be there for her, and for me too. How kind. What true friends.

I wanted to hear no talk of the beautiful solos. That lady really sang. She saaang. Like there would be no tomorrow. The words she sand penetrated my body, and seemed to fight to get out of my system, but they were trapped, and my body shook. I didn’t want anyone to bring it to my recollection. I didn’t want to think about it, or experience it again. The way I cried with no control. I didn’t want to hear, even in my mind’s ear, the sounds that escaped my mouth. Knowing that I’ve never cried like that before. Not at a funeral. I’m accustomed to crying quietly. No one around me would ever know I was crying unless they saw my tear-stained face. But not that day. That day, people saw the vibrations of pain and grief move my body, beyond my control. People heard the sounds of anguish and struggle exit my mouth, surprising even me. When that lady sang the second solo, I could have curled up and died. Great is thy faithfulness? Who’s faithfulness? Who was more faithful than my Grammy? WHO?! GOD?! God has been faithful in watching and letting us suffer through her illness with her, and taking her away from us, leaving us to continue to suffer without her. Yes, she’s out of it now. But only after immense pain. Maybe she was holding on for us? I don’t know… Maybe His faithfulness is great. I just know that hearing her sing about it… It was almost too much for me to take. I saw my mother, two rows ahead of me, shake, similar to the way that I shook. I saw my father wipe his face with a handkerchief. I remembered that Great is Thy Faithfulness was my grandfather’s (his father’s) favourite song. A priest sang it at his funeral. And the church became a forest of waterfalls.

I didn’t want to fall victim to looks of pity. Or questions like, “How are you doing?” Especially knowing that it was written on my face. My swollen, red eyes told the story of my day. My constant squinting was evidence of the seemingly eternal headache. My tight mouth was an indication of the fight I was in, against myself, to keep from crying. My nose, red and chapped… My hair, unkempt. My dress, unthought of. My legs, unlotioned. How was I doing? As well as a pauper on the street, perhaps?

For all those reasons and more, I refused to go early. I ate in a rush and left the table. Avoiding all conversation. All questions. All eyes. I left. I curled myself up on the couch, and mindlessly watched television. Dragons Den came on. I was pleased. Something that I could watch with the right amount of thoughtfulness and the right amount of thoughtlessness. I watched two episodes. Then there was nothing. I moved into the room without a television. I curled up on the couch with my new nook and read a little. My mother’s friends came to visit her. How nice! I wondered to myself, Will I ever have friends like hers? (Can you tell? I don’t have many friends. At all. There are just a few. I figure I have a lot of family, so no need to pile my life up with useless people. I choose friends carefully.) They drove all this way (my great-grandmother’s house is rather far) to come and see her. They brought her one of those giant greeting cards. Everyone from work signed it, along with nice little messages, telling her they missed her, and hoped to see her back to work soon, and that she needed to get well soon. (This card was not one of sympathy, but a Get Well Soon card, from she was out sick.) Along with the card came a letter-sized envelope. Cash. They took up a collection. I didn’t count it, and at the point, I don’t think she had either. Maybe they told her how much it was. After greeting them, I didn’t pay attention to their conversation. But I’m sure it’s enough to cover her next round of medication. Blessings. Finally. A reason to smile. A little less stress for her. And for me.

I was ready to go home long before it was time. I left my laundry in the washer. I couldn’t take it any more. I was ready.to.go. I got about halfway home before the tears started coming. I found myself intrigued by the way the tears dripped and dropped. Down the sides of my nose, around my mouth, and then DROP. Right onto my chest. They didn’t roll down my chin, down my neck to my chest. They just dropped. Like a jumper off of a cliff. That’s the way I wished my emotions would act. Just jump off of a cliff, never to be seen again. Over the edge, to the point of no return. Instead, they stuck around. Possibly driving me to the edge. Lord knows that if I take the plunge, there won’t be any return. I see the edge. It’s in sight. But I just.can’t.go.there. There would be no turning back.

I hope everyone is having a great week so far. I’m working at keeping busy. Lots going on at work. I haven’t been able to read any blogs. WP wouldn’t let them load. Lots of catching up to do. Those of you who miss my comments, I have not abandoned or unfollowed you. WP has been punishing me. I’ll be back. If you’ve seen any cool/fun/funny posts that I may have missed, please leave links. I could really use some good reads for my spare time. Many thanks!

Rough Day

Rough day, y’all. I spent a lot of time trying to decide whether or not I should post about it. I ended up in between the two, so I’m going to be kind of vague. By the end of this post, I may spill all of the beans. You may piece it all together, depending on the way that I say what I say. Clearly, I have no idea how I’m going to do this yet. I AM going to do it though. Therapy.

  • I’m not talking about this with the appropriate party because it’s futile, and likely only to serve in making me a lot more upset than I already am. That annoys me to start with.
  • It is completely inappropriate, random, and stupid for a person to demand (or even request) that someone else MAKE and BRING them something to eat. Seriously?! Who ARE you?! You take that type of request to a parent, spouse, life partner, or personal chef. What.the.eff?! If someone asked that of me, I would let them know, straight up, that it’s not my job, it’s not okay to ask me something like that, AND making a meal for someone is a very personal, intimate thing. You don’t just make sandwiches for random people working in your building, or casual acquaintances.
  • If someone with a husband/wife/girlfriend/boyfriend ever made and delivered food to me, I’d question their relationship. Not gonna lie. I’d wonder if the significant other was aware, and how he/she felt about it.
  • People only treat us the way we allow them to treat us. People learn from the way we interact with them how to interact with us. Really, we train people to deal with us. We reap what we sow.
  • Somehow, I pick up things about people. Sense things. Nothing freaky. I just know in an instant whether or not a person is genuine, sort of. I can’t really explain it. Anyway. I’ve never been wrong about it. There have been times when I’ve ignored it for whatever reason, and got kicked in the bum. I know a freak/weirdo/extra-need person when I met one.
  • Yesterday, I ordered a loaf of bread from one of the restaurants that deliver here. Olive loaf. I figured Babe would love it. She loooves olives. $8 for a loaf, y’all. $8. I figure it would be worth it because she’d really enjoy it, just like we enjoyed the $8 asiago loaf I got last week.
  • There are a lot of things that I have not done and would never do because I refuse to disrespect myself, Babe, or our relationship. I know that the people in the relationship set the standard. Everyone else just falls in line/follows suit. That’s the way it is.
  • I turned down a ride home from someone because I know it’s someone Babe isn’t comfortable with, and doesn’t like knowing is around (or in contact with) me. I found alternatives. Why do something that obviously makes her uncomfortable?! And, I mean, for WHAT?! What would be the purpose of that? For her to feel every single minute that I’m stuck in box with the person on the way home? No. Not happening.
  • I hate it when I express my point of view on something, and the person makes me feel like my feelings are not valid. Or my thoughts are crazy. Or I’m some extra sinister, cynical, horrible person. Or I’m frickin’ crazy. Especially when I really do my best to validate their feelings, and be understanding of points of view. We all know that all emotions and all thoughts are not rational, and we won’t share them all. Does that give us the right to disrespect or ignore those that are not in alignment with our own?
  • It really bothers me that this has been bothering me for the ENTIRE day, even though I’ve been actively trying to put it out of my mind (except for the time I spent wondering if I should post about it).
  • This isn’t a conversation that’s going to be finished later. It’s not something I intend to bring up again. Meaning today, or any other day.
  • I haaate when I have those 13-year-old-rebellious-young-person moments when I wanna do something just to prove a point. I refuse to give in to that inclination. I will NOT.
  • I fell behind in some work things. I’m disappointed in myself. I could barely look at my work peeps in a meeting today. I really could have cried a few times in those 2 hours, honestly. They didn’t get upset with me or anything. I just felt like I could have had more to offer today.
  • I haz a sad.
  • I sort of don’t wanna do anything this weekend (any more). Weird, I know.

It’s Thankful Thursday. I need to be thankful. I will in my next post. I was supposed to post pictures of my Denmark goodies today. I don’t feel like. Maybe tomorrow (again)? We’ll see. I’m gonna do Thankful Thursday. Just as soon as I’ve sat on the floor in the corner of my office and had a moment. I’ll wash my face and pat it dry like it’s a new day, come to my computer, put in some work, and be THANKFUL. Stay tuned for that one.

When you’re expressing the way that you feel, how important is it that the person you’re confiding in understands you? Do you necessarily need someone to agree with you when you’re upset about something? How do you get past something that you can’t/won’t address? I know you may be lost with my bullet points, but from what you can tell, am I being a crazy person? Do you think that meal-sharing is intimate?

Expect the Unexpected (via Maggie Mae’s Days)

LOVE this. Had to share it.

Expect the Unexpected I know I've heard many a person say, "You never know what to expect".  Time and time again I've heard those words or uttered them myself in relation to various situations, circumstances and events. This has always held true in my personal experiences in life so far… Just when you think you know, you find out in reality you really have no idea… But you see, life always has a way of changing on ya… the path in the road winding in a different … Read More

via Maggie Mae's Days