I think I suffered a massive panic attack at my desk today.
"Heart attack!!" also crossed my mind.
Something you should know before worrying: I'm prone to melodrama. Clearly it's the best idea to immediately self-diagnose a confusing chest-pain/anxiety-feeling as something way more serious than it probably is. Remember this very important equation: I have an internet connection = I am a medical expert.
So, no panic/heart attack. Really, it's likely a combination of PMS, exhaustion and post-superbowl heartburn (even the salad contained Fritos!). The perfect storm.
It's an angry cocktail, especially mixed with my mini life-crisis episodes of late. I can usually handle/dismiss my internal crazy:
"I'm so aimless. Yay, this is the best thing ever!!! What am I DOING with my life? Am I happy? Let's move to Oregon? No, Peru. LET'S GO DANCING! I should be going to yoga again. Do you think it's an ulcer? I miss my sister. OMG, let's craft! I HAVE NOTHING TO WEAR."
Same day here, people. Same day.
I'm not trying to date you, so it's pretty safe to bring my full crazy to the table.
(I'm also prone to exaggeration. So please still be my friend. I'm normal. Sort of. And nice. Don't leave.)
But yeah, I can laugh at myself. Really well. Self-deprecation is kinda my shtick. Otherwise, I'd never survive, err, me. I can also (mostly) brush away those fleeting desires to do impulsive (annnnd probably destructive) things. Because that's what adults are supposed to do, right?
Today, though, I let the crazy own me a bit. I felt sad and/or panicked and/or confused. You know, because of the lady business and the heart-stopping greasy food and the sleep-deprivation.
I'll be fine. Somehow hubby is actually being super-duper, even though I'm an exasperating human. He's NOT rolling his eyes (he should be). Instead he picked up Indian take-out (great for heartburn, of course) and we watched a movie of my picking (Enchanted!). "Everyone has a right to feel sad sometimes." Cute, yeah? I don't deserve sympathy. I'm usually 95% responsible for my own repeated unravelings. I'll generously only place 5% of the blame on genetics: the women in my family are nuts. In a good way. The very, very best way. Like me, right?
(Ugh. "Unraveling" is so over-the-top. Sheesh.)
OK, so why am I at all desirable and how did I actually manage to snag and marry a non-creep? These big purple bruises on my emotional makeup are pretty rare these days and I'm usually a glass-half-full kinda girl (full! overflowing!). I'll probably be there again tomorrow. Probably I should wear something ridiculous so that the work-nerds harass me. Because that's a pretty fun time.
High highs, low (infrequent) lows. I guess I wouldn't have it any other way.
I already feel so much better. Thanks, blog.
P.S. if you managed to actually feel sorry for me somehow (don't), I'd like to point out that this was my weekend: