There was a moment on Friday night when if I had been able to come outside of my body and look at myself, sitting in a ball on my floor, surrounded by clothes and housewares and boxes and hangers, tears running down my face, sobbing so uncontrollably that I was about one sharp inhale away from passing out, I would have either slapped myself or offered to call myself a cab to take me away to a nice home for the weekend (one of those lovely ones that comes equipped with padded walls and lots of pharmaceuticals to help me get through the day).
How did I get there? Well, it turns out I don't deal with stress all that well. The running theme of this blog as of late has been my stress level, so its been building for a while. You know what else I'm not super good at dealing with? Not sleeping. Ask anyone I know. I can sleep through anything. I love to sleep. When I don't sleep, I'm not a very good person. So, you can only imagine what frame of mind I was in Friday night going off of 2.5 short hours of sleep. Thursday night I had a paper to finish. As usual, I waited until the last minute to really get into it. I was working on it all week. And by "working", I mean pulling my books out, looking over things, and really THINKING about what I was going to do. I put a lot of THOUGHT into this paper. I started writing it Wednesday night but got no where, so I had the lion's share to do Thursday (otherwise known as the night before its due). In my defense, I've had a little bit going on and other schoolwork to do, so its not really like it used to be when i had nothing else to work on and still waited until 8 hours before a paper was due to start researching it.
I finished the paper at 3am. 3:12, to be exact. Five whole hours and forty-eight whole minutes before it was due. I finally drifted off around 4-4:30am (just in time to catch the early news from the BBC, by the way. The world sucks right now, if you haven't been paying attention. But more on that later...), on the couch because there were too many clothes on my bed from going through my closet that I couldn't see anywhere to sleep on the bed. I slept from around 4ish to 6:30 when my alarm cruelly went off for me to get up and go to work. And, to paint you an accurate picture, it didn't just go off. I was justifiably a little scared that I'd sleep right on through the alarm, so I turned the volume all the way up. To around the decibel level of a jet engine, which was just a really fun way to wake up after not having been asleep long enough to complete a REM cycle.
After I peeled myself off of the ceiling, I got ready and went to work. That part's boring, so we'll skip it. There were reports sent and to do lists made and, honestly, some of the best health education since Prochaska proposed that whole stages of change thing. But I won't bore you with all that. We'll fast forward to me, taking things out of the attic, going through clothes, trying to figure out what is what and where to put it and how on earth I'm going to get everything done before our Christmas party.
And then Terrance called...
And I don't remember exactly what he said....
But I'm quite sure he'll never forget it...
Out of fear of ever repeating it again.
Whatever it was, it was something along the lines of him being tired or stressed or something he's apparently not allowed to be right now. I started to calmly explain to him that I was going through a lot and that I had so much to do and all along my voice was getting louder and my words were getting closer together and I'm pretty sure I jumped an octave at one point. By the end of my rant, I think the only ones really physically able to hear me were the dogs. And based on their faces, they didn't like it. My point was that I'm trying to finish up the semester and not fail, I'm trying to get my job done and my very big, very your-job-depends-on-it report to the state and the health department's accreditation stuff done, and I'm trying to take care of our menagerie, who have all had to go to the vet lately (which I have to miss some work for because Saturday vet appointments are reserved for people who don't wait until their dog's vaccinations lapse before thinking it might be a good idea to get them checked out. Otherwise known as losers), and I'm having to figure out when to have people come look at the house to fix it to sell, and I'm trying to find a job in Ohio, And I feel like I'm doing it all alone. And ALL he has to worry about up there is work. And I know he's working very hard. But still.
After I told him I didn't care to talk to him anymore and hoped he had a wonderful evening (that might be a very loose interpretation of what I said. I maybe might have said that I hoped he got his head out of a certain area of his anatomy. But the essence is basically the same), I crumpled into a ball on the floor and cried. Now, I'm not talking a tear or two welling up in your eye and escaping while slowly running down your cheek as you sniffle a bit and need to wipe your nose on your sleeve. I'm talking I CRIED. I'm talking a full body shaking, can't form words, eyes swelling shut, verge of hyperventilation, inconsolable event.
And, because life is super fun for me right now, after I finally caught my breath, I got up, dusted myself off, washed my face and straightened myself out, I finished going through the boxes I needed to. They weren't going to do it themselves, you know? And so, I got to sleep, on the couch again, at around 1am. And had to get up on Saturday at 7am to drop Charlie at the vet (he's a super well behaved cat so we have to drop him off so they can sedate him to do his wellness check and vaccinations. Such a cutie!). And then my dad came over and we went and picked up a couch for Terrance to use in his new apartment and cleaned out the garage and moved boxes and furniture and took trips to goodwill and habitat store. We did WORK, son.
Why is everybody working for the weekend, again?
Terrance admitted, with relatively little prodding, that I indeed have a substantial amount on my plate and apologized for having the nerve to have feelings of his own that I haven't approved yet. He actually, in all seriousness, offered to give up his promotion and his much deserved success and try to get a job at one of the stores in the Charlotte market again. He is a very sweet guy, even though he has the nerve to be human sometimes and get stressed out because he's living in a hotel 8 hours away from his family, friends and home. And he's doing it all for me and us and our future.
And he does tell me that he appreciates me... I just maybe don't always hear him. I'm too busy to hear such things, you know?
I got a full 8 hours of sleep last night, so I no longer feel like my head might snap right off of my body and roll across the room. And suddenly, it all feels slightly manageable. I just have to make lists and organize and keep my sense of humor and remember that I'm not actually alone.
I think we can handle this...:)
