Blech, can you I just express to you how happy I am that this weekend is OVER? It started horribly, got worse, and thankfully ended with wonderful news. But man-o-man, can I have a do-over? If I have to work 5 long days a week to only enjoy 2 of my own, that should guarantee a perfect 2 days, am I right? Big sigh Big sigh, and again Big Sigh.
Don’t listen to me complaining…I’m grateful that my weekend went the way it did, truly…It was just mentally draining and good God, when does a person run out of tears already!? I’m sure if I have a reader base at all, it consists of mainly women. So, have you ever had one of those days/weeks that you just feel like crying? You sit down and you go inward for a few minutes and you try and figure out what the heck started you down this road of total and complete depression, am I right? And hey, guess what? If you are anything like me, you cannot figure it out. Because nothing actually happened that should make you feel like you would like to willingly admit yourself to the nearest local mental institute…but holy geeze, where are my keys already??
On those days, I cannot talk to my mother. Shoot, I can hardly talk to my pastor, my husband, or even my best friend. Here is how the conversation usually goes:
[Person that means a lot to me]: Hey Steph, how ya’ doing?
Me: I’m good ::weak smile, because I’m a horrible liar::
[Person that means a lot to me]: Really? Cause you don’t look fine, is everything okay?
Me: ::tears begin forming in my little eyeballs:: No, no, I’m okay. I’m fine, I’ll be fine…
[Person that means a lot to me]: Aww Steph, what’s wrong? You look like you are about to cry… ::puts arm around shoulder, with concerned eyes::
Me: ::full out bawling for no flipping reason what-so-ever:: I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME! I will be fine, I promise…
[Person that means a lot to me]: ::totally awkward and confused:: Okay, well just let me know if you need anything…
Yeahhh….not so much my cup of tea. HOW embarrassing. That was pretty much my exact conversation with my pastor this weekend at church, except the full out bawling didn’t happen ’till that night at youth when Sarah asked me if I felt better; hence the invitation by Guillermo to go home and rest up. It doesn’t happen to me often, but it does happen. Those are the days in which I wish women were given a special sedative to sleep through it and never actually have to live it out.
Thankfully, I have a wonderful week ahead of me. I am hoping my crying spells are over (although, I did embarrassingly shed a few this morning saying goodbye to Brad) and under control. I’m looking forward to good times with good friends, and a new notch in my belt. Here I come, 24!