Tuesday- I woke up in the afternoon still deformed from my unsuccessful attempt to have breakfast, and I promptly realized that my cell phone was MIA. Somewhere between the apartment and the car it had mysteriously vanished and could not be located in the backseat, under the driver seat, the passengers’ seat, the trunk or in the pile of crap surrounding my kids’ carseat (which actually forced me to clean the god damn car out). It was not in the house and it wasn’t turned in at the leasing office. It wasn’t hiding in my ass either… so I had to replace the fucking thing ASAP, since a phone is essential when you’re on fucking call.
Wednesday- I went into work at 7pm looking forward to working the surgery center. I like the people there and it’s pretty laid back. At 9pm I encountered the worst fucking migraine I’ve ever had in my life. I tried to lie down in a patient room but was sent flying to the toilet, barely making it just in time to barf my dinner up. I hugged the bowl until I started cry from pain. It felt as though there was demolition crew in my head determined to implode my brain. I closed my eyes to see spots flashing. Convinced they were blood vessels shattering as my brain hemorrhaged for what felt like eternity. (In reality it lasted for 4 days.) I finally laid down where I promptly sweat my way through my scrubs. Eewww. Gross. I took some Excedrin and prayed that I made it home safely.
Thursday- After not sleeping all day due to the fucking jack-hammer that had moved into my frontal lobe, I called my boss and told her if my shift was canceled to NOT re-route me. (Thankfully they don’t need me and I’m briefly victorious.) Thinking that if I could just relax and sleep for a night, that I would be refreshed in the am and be ready to go. I tried to pick-up around the house and asked my husband to run to the trash out and get some essentials from the store. He was gone only minutes before he rushed back into the house proclaiming that he lost his wedding ring. Determined to not let the ring find the black abyss that sucked my cell phone away, I went and put on shorts to help him look for it. It was nowhere to be found on the sidewalk, not in the parking lot or anywhere on the ground around the dumpsters. Only option left… climb in. Fuck. My husband looked at me sideways and I was in no fucking mood to argue so I climbed up the side of that fucker like spider-man. Only to spend the next 20 minutes sifting through dog shit covered trash. Awesome… it wasn’t there. I gave up and went back to the apartment. My husband went to the store and came back. I asked him to run the dishes while I got cleaned up. CLANG CLANG CLANG FUCKIN’ CLANG!!!!!!! The garbage disposal went. Found his ring. Fuck.
Friday- Still no sleep. I’m sure that God is punishing me at this point. I cannot tolerate sound or light by now and have grown into the most miserable person alive. I miss an important phone call. I snap at my kid. I want my husband to become a mute. My work calls and tells me I’m supposed to work. Uhhhhh… NO. I’m not supposed to work… AND I’m not going to! You can eat me is what I really feel like saying. My pressure points are worn out and I am out of ideas to cure myself. I’m considering jumping off the balcony…
Saturday- After a few hours of sleep, I am determined to place mind over matter. I go to check the mail and there is a brief letter from the police department telling me that they are fucking idiots and are not investigating some fraudulent shit that appeared in my name. Fucking pigs. May their get their identity stolen! Bastards. This is the night my best girlfriend is having her graduation party. I’ve been looking forward to it for a month. But… I have no intention of bringing this black cloud ANYWHERE with me. Especially not to a party. I get home and decide to eat. Something I haven’t done for 3 days.
Sunday-All worn out with nothing accomplished, I resort to socialization. But I’m not ready to be social. I get to where I’m going and realize that I don’t want to be there. Too much noise, too much sunshine, and mother-fucking people. I give up and go home. Finally I pass out and sleep for 10 hours. This has had to be one of the shittiest weeks I’ve ever experienced.
Moral of the story is-
Don’t pray for strength-
Because this is how God makes you strong, testing to see how much shit you can take.
Other moral of the story is-
All shitty shit passes-
Get over it, or get through it, cause it can ALWAYS get worse.
