The Meltdown

I wrote back in October about the fact that I am an ugly crier.  Something had happened and I was holding back the tears because of a rather unsightly picture that I have of me crying a long time ago.

I tell you this because on Monday I had a nuclear meltdown.  (I exaggerate only slightly here.)  Within the last month or so there has been a lot that has happened:

- Best friend, CK, broke up with boyfriend, so I helped pack and move her in one day.
- CK found a place to live but a couple weeks later was asked to move out of there, so once again I packed her up and moved her.
- CK moved in with my family.
- I decided to rent a place with CK for a year, rather than continue to look for a house to buy (as I'm so picky it just might take forever!)
- Within two weeks we had signed a lease.
- I moved last weekend.
- Our second night at our new place the basement flooded, of course right where my stuff was sitting.
- Plumber came.

Up until this point, I'm golden.  Anxious.  But golden.

So the next day (Monday) our box to hook up our internet arrives.  And I walk around the place realize we have no phone jacks.  Not a single solitary one.  To which our landlord replies (basically, this is how I took it), "your problem, not ours."  Awesome sauce.  (tears begin to fall, first drink is poured)  So I call our internet provider and they can't come out for a week.  Let's remember that I'm a teacher, who had lesson planning to do.  And, what I now realize is a slight addiction to being connected, especially to the internet.

I head downstairs to check something out and break a light.  Then I notice that a teapot of mine was sitting, broken into little pieces, on the washtub.  Thanks Mr. Plumber for letting me know you BROKE something!  I pick up a piece and slice open my thumb.  More tears, more drinks.

Needless to say I could not cook dinner as I began to sob.  SOB!  Full out mascara ribbons down my face, ugly noises, crawl under a quilt, wet pillow, fetal position sobbing.  I text my roommate to let her know I will not be making dinner.  So she calls, hears me crying and says she is calling Mr. T and will bring me dinner in 15 minutes.

That's the gist of the problem.  I won't even get into the next few days.

Why in the world am I sharing a story like this?  A story of falling apart?  A story of tears?

I share it because of what I realized after a few days.  Those tears were so much more than no internet, a boken tea pot, an injured finger...

They were tears of sadness.  Of frustration.  Of anxiety.  This is my first place, on my own, outside of college.  This is the first time, as an adult, I have to handle "house" things.  I also didn't have much time to adjust to the fact that I was moving.  Because within two weeks of deciding to move I had seen 5 places, picked one, applied for it, gotten it, signed a lease and moved.

Here's what I realized.  Sometimes you just need a really good cry.  You hate it at the time.  I felt weak.  Broken.  Damaged.  Useless.  Ridiculous.  But letting out that emotion... it was almost freeing.  Almost.

Remember little things in life can wait... but The Sunset Won't.