That's exactly how I felt today, but I knew it was coming and perhaps that is why I dreaded wakin' up to face the day. Yesterday evening was my periodic "nuclear meltdown" during which I commence to bawl and squall and snivel and such. When one goes to bed whimpering and continues to cry on her pillow, one can be assured that the eyes will barely open at 5AM due to the swelling. And NO...it's not PMS ;) I'm past all that.

Back in my younger days, I used to cry and rant over every little thing. That was before I learned to pick my battles to save my own sanity. Now it normally only happens when I've overextended myself either physically or emotionally, and sometimes both. One of the things that I've noticed about my mental health during the year and a half that I've been b**gging is that pondering and writing about things from the past induces some of the same emotions that were originally experienced, in some ways revealing issues that might have been presumed to be dead horses that are, in fact, alive and well and seeking resolution. It ain't ever over 'til the fat lady sings and thank goodness y'all are there to catch me when it hits.


Most of what I write about is real. I change names and small details to protect the anonymity of those who are a part of my life, but for the most part every story that I have told involves something that I have experienced firsthand. While I try really hard not to whine or bitch, sometimes the struggles catch up with me and demand to be put to rest. As a single gal with nobody to hug the pain away, b**gging has given me the outlet to do just that. I apologize if I'm not funny or witty or upbeat all the time. Anybody who claims to be is either: (a) not presenting the whole truth about themselves or (b) on some kind of drug that I will promptly steal if I ever find it.

Babygirl has these spells now and then herself, though hers are due to the hormones of a 21 year old. At any rate, we have learned the signs and the looks that precede this volatile mix of emotions and each of us treads lightly when the other prepares to cleanse the psyche and discharge the toxins into the atmosphere. Must be a girl thing, huh??

I'm good to go now. The tears were gone when I woke up, and by noon the eyes were recognizable as my own. By tomorrow you'll never know that the Poopster was a raving whimpering lunatic last night.

And in my next life? There's gonna be somebody to hold me when I get like that.