Tantrum Warehouse
Tact Free Since 2003


Ya'll. I completely lost my shit last night.

And my husband is a saint.

I had this breakdown last night. I don't know if it is fatigue or stress or PMS or what but I felt so sick to my stomach and I near tears all the way home. I managed to get carsick driving my car (when I have never been carsick before) and projectile vomited in front of this farmer and his wife by my house. Which of course made me cry. So I drove home about seventy miles an hour with my radio blasting Johnny Cash fucking bawling.

I sat in my garage trying to get it together. Because J seriously does not need this when it is second day of a new job. We are supposed to be happy and glowing with our new found not-going-to-lose-the-houseness. So I get myself together and go in the house. He just looks at me and says how was your day and I seriously lost it all over again.

I cried and blurted out the whole story plus a lot of other stuff about how I hate my job and I feel like a failure and how am I going to explain to this baby we want to have that mommy had potential once too but she has this crappy job that she has to do until she dies so don't follow her path and blah blah blah.

I got snot all over his Yankees sweatshirt and he still loves me. That is true love right there.

He rubbed my hair, and ya'll he even knows which direction to do it as to not make it bigger. He tried to suggest that maybe I am sick because I could be pregnant, which I totally am not, but he thought would cheer me up. Unfortunately, this made me panic because we would totally be having a three headed baby given the amount of Nyquil and Vicodin I have been taking.

The man could not win. But he kept trying. He rubbed my neck, made me toast, got me into bed. And I passed out. Because being irrational for that long is exhausting.

All I know is that I am going to have to put out in ways that would upset my born-again Christian sister to make up for that nonsense.

6:32 a.m. :: comment ::
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