Showing posts with label bad day. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bad day. Show all posts

Thursday, September 20, 2012

The Day After: An explanation and a thank you

Im learning this

First of all, I wanted to say thank you to the readers who sent me private messages asking if I was ok, and telling me if I needed anything they were there {Hi Nana}, after yesterday's blog version of a temper tantrum.
Second, I wanted to say I'm fine.
Yesterday was a bad day.
In fact, it was the third bad day in what started off as a miserable week.
Fights, anxiety, emotional outburst and uncontrollable neediness made for a very DONE Sarah, who had a choice between screaming if everyone's face and running away to Cuba, or blogging out her rage.
You're welcome to everyone I did not scream at.
I'm sorry to those of you that I may have yelled at...a little...in a....cute way?

Anyway, everything is fine.

Sometimes I forget what a community blogging creates.
Even if your readers don't comment on every single post, when they sense that you're hurting or in trouble, they always come through with a kind word or an email, or a virtual hug.
It's awesome.
I think we all love blogging and love reading other's blogs because it reminds us that we all have bullshit in our lives, we all fuck up, and we all have small little moments that are sweet, and good, and no matter insignificant they might seem, we all feel more real when we see those small life moments lived out by the bloggers we read religiously.
We recognize ourselves in their words, we see our families in their pictures, and we know we're not the only weirdos who photograph our food, or plan out the next months worth of posts, or stay up all night blog surfing.

In short, y'all are awesome.
Group hug.

xoxo
Sarah

Thursday, January 19, 2012

Sarah and the Terrible, Horrible, Completely Piece of Shit Day

Alexander-bad-day_large

Well, if you somehow missed that literary gem when you were growing up, it's basically about a boy who has the most shit day in the history of ever. He wakes up with gum in his hair, his best friend acts like an asshole, his mom forgets his dessert for his lunch and then has the audacity to give him Lima beans for dinner. 
The nerve.
Anyway, the kid goes grumping around through the whole book, while his day goes from bad to worse in the smallest, most infuriating ways possible. 
And that has been the last couple days in the life of me.
I am mother furking Alexander.

It all started Monday evening, when I got a horrible headache. Well, really the terrible headache started with me getting these short, sudden, intense stabbing feelings in the side of my head above my left ear, which then progressed to both my ears hurting, and then my whole head. 
I took some Excedrin, a hot shower, and felt much better. 
But not for long. 
The next day when I woke up for work, the stabbing pains continued. They last maybe 2-3 seconds, but were so intense, almost white hot, that I couldn't help but actually make a face of agony when they occurred. As my work day went on, they got more and more frequent. At one point I was in a meeting and started tracking them. They were happening every 2 minutes or less, and they hurt like hell. 
By the time I got home, I was tired, hungry, and the stabby feeling was really pissing me off-and starting to worry me. I made the terrible mistake of going to WebMD for help, and after logging my head pain into the handy dandy symptom checker, I was told I could have a migraine, or a brain tumor. A tension headache, or an aneurysm. An ear infection, or meningitis. Fuck my life, and queue anxiety face: 
Wahlbergxp5_large

Anyway, Bill came over later and semi-convinced me I didn't have a stabby brain tumor, and told me stories and made me take medicine. It helped. At first. 
After he left though, I proceeded to be up until 3:30 in the morning being repeatedly stabbed in the side of my head and both my ears with an ice pick. Which lead me to this neat article about ice pick headaches, which I thought I might be having.
And that all night pain marathon, is what started the shit fest that was today.
Instead of waking up at six a.m. after I finally passed out on the couch praying I would make it through the night, I woke up at 7:15 which is exactly the time I need to leave the house to get to work on time after dropping off the minions. 
FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK.
I started barking orders at the kids to get dressed, find their shoes, getouofthefridgetheresbreakfastatschoolfortheloveofGODgetinthecar NOW!
Poor kids.
After all that stress, yelling, and not eating, my head was absolutely killing me. My ears throbbed and ached, my head was feeling stabby on BOTH sides now, and the surges were coming so often it seemed like they never stopped. 
After suffering through two hours of work and the longest meeting ever with my boss who's response to my migraine was "You won't need to take a lot of time off for those in the future, will you?" I was in agony.
Finally, one of the admin girls found me huddled in the break room feeling on the verge of certain death, and thrust a piece of bread at my face.
"You're doing that low carb thing, right? Eat this." She said. I was in too much pain to argue. I stuffed it in my mouth and instantly. felt. better.

I was having carb withdrawals.

Fucking bread now has complete control of my life. If I eat it, I will be fat, but if I don't I will suffer the worst pain imaginable until the end of time.

I choose fat.

The rest of the day went by in a hectic blur, but pretty much pain free. 
Until I got home.
I made dinner, picked up a bit, broke up a few fights between the kids, and within two hours, I felt like hell again. 
Muscles ache, skin is tender, cheeks feel hot and my stabby head pain is back, although not nearly as bad.
I dropped and spilled a huge bowl of cherry tomatoes all over the kitchen floor-twice, Jack left the fridge door open for two hours before I noticed, and now everything in there is hot, and I'm pretty much at the end of my emotional/physical discomfort tolerance rope.

I think a hot shower, a huge bottle of water, some Advil and a dark and quiet house is in order, followed by a solid 8 hours of deep deep deep as the ocean sleep.

Fuck this terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.