Allow me to summarize the previous post, which you were all kind enough to indulge me in:
I’m feeling needy because someone was MEAN to me and it wasn’t FAIR and I’m MAD and SAD (and I do not like it, Sam I Am) and I am also quite NEUROTIC and I think perhaps I have ISSUES and did I mention I’M NOT DEALING WELL?
There. If you hadn’t read the post, before, now you can skip it. That was much more concise.
So what happened after that? I got down to the business of keepin’ on keepin’ on. Last time I checked, I didn’t really have a choice. So! Onward! Sort of.
I sent up a flare and grabbed everyone who responded and kissed them and hugged them and squeezed them and called them George and remembered that I’m allowed to have feelings. I’m even allowed to have feelings without analyzing them to death, but just, you know, HAVE them.
I’m even–GET THIS–allowed to have YUCKY feelings and SHARE them and WHINE about them and the people who give a damn still will, even if I cry on them. Or call them George.
And that? Helps. Lots. [As did an entertaining psychological evaluation of the party who set me off yesterday, which concluded with the observation that this person probably screamed at their mother when they they were four and the ice cream truck didn’t stop, and hasn’t grown up since. I think the person who came up with that really loves me a lot, to work all the way back to age four just to insult the person who hurt me, don’t you?]
So first there was that. Folks huddled up, and brought silly band-aids, and helped tape me up.
Next there was Operation Pamper Me, which included finally getting my hair treated and cut. I suspect that some of the chemicals leached through my scalp and into my brain, because this afternoon I paid full price for a few shirts. YES I needed shirts and YES they were full price at Marshall’s (which is still like half price anywhere else), but this is highly irregular for me. I was totally channelling an exasperated Stuart Smalley while I bought them. (“I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and doggone it, $7.99 for a t-shirt is perfectly reasonable so GET OVER IT ALREADY.”)
I let the kids stay up a little bit late tonight and tried to yell at them only half of the time. I know that every mother out there will understand when I say that it’s hard to have an ego crisis while a sticky, unblinking child informs you that you most certainly DID just fall off the turnip truck.
And then I started packing. Because I think I’m due for a vacation, don’t you? Oh hell yes. Just a few more days to go.
I’ll be humming “I get by with a little from my friends” the whole trip….