Welcome to my Meltdown

Yes, it's true. I had one. A bonafide meltdown. I just cracked. It started with being sick. Really sick from allergies and sinuses. Thinking that I'd still be okay to travel to Chandler, Arizona to do a Sephora training. Thinking that if I just took Mucinex D then I'd be fine. (After taking a Claritin D and two motrin). So I called Southwest, moved my flight, and layed down. Well, I started to feel worse. So I moved my flight again. And then I called Sephora. And checked about rescheduling. The manager sounded busy. And disappointed. So I said I'd be there. And then I layed down again. Went online to check my bank balance. And then I felt worse. Because if I don't go on the trip, I don't get paid and there's the little matter of rent. I hate rent.

Then I tried to have a glass of wine. Which sometimes helps. I know, but it is a histamine. I thought, okay, I'll just take a cab to the airport. I can still make it. The wine did not help. Nothing did. I took six motrin. I watched a bad movie. And then got in a fight with a friend-- which I never do-- and then lost it. Completely. Cried my little heart out. Did I mention that it's that time of the month? Well, it is. Unfortunately this time was a little worse than all the others. All women's immune systems dip during the week before their period. That's usually when I get sick. This time, I just got cranky as hell. And when my cycle started, well, that's when I got sick. And as emotional as a crazy person. Which I pretty much was. I hate being a crazy person.

This is usually when I say I'm not fit for human consumption aka I need to be alone. Because lately I keep getting all of the suggestions for fixing my life that I've already tried and tried again. Or else people saying things like, "maybe you shouldn't be a writer." Or "maybe you should go on antidepressants." The only problem being that I am a writer. That's what I am. Who I am. And I am not depressed, my life is. I don't want to be artificially happy when things suck. I wouldn't mind being artificially happy when things are good, but that's the Orange County in me.

The good part of the meltdown is I got alot of shit out. I guess it was bound to happen. I suck at pretending things are okay when they're not. But I've been trying to do that since I've been seeing humans that I haven't seen in a while and doing trainings and selling things to people who aren't about to listen to or buy from a cranky, depressed person. Luckily I've been doing yoga and hiking alot so I'm fit. And I got a great root job so I appear to the naked eye superficially fine. It's just once I start talking... So I've been sucking it up and trying to shut up when possible. But here's the truth. I'd rather that things just worked. So I didn't have to worry about all this shit anymore. I would like to not worry for one day. To have someone else take care of me and my shit for one day. If only I wasn't too old and cranky to be kept. Maybe if I got boobs...Then again, if I could afford boobs, that would mean that I wouldn't need them. Isn't life a pain sometimes? And me with boobs is just a ridiculous thought anyway. Although people lately seem to think they've grown. Which I hope not, because bras are expensive. Yes, I'm pouting.

So today I got treated for my allergies and sinuses. And it helped. Which made the day not a total wash. I was able to finish and submit one essay about my crazy wine promotion job from bed. And trim my essay about my blog for Newsweek's "My Turn" column (yes, I know they get over 600 submissions per month). I'm submitting that tomorrow. I also asked my friend Kate if I could come visit her. I haven't been anywhere in over 3 years vacation-wise. I'll probably have to sell some shit to go. And by shit, I don't mean my writing. Although that would be preferable. But I think I need a change of scenery. Although I will go through Will and Skunk-withdrawal (she's the new cat-- she is so damn happy and loving, it's crazy. But it'd be so fun to see Kate and frolic through New York doing all the free things we can find-- And Kate, by the way, has been such a fabulous friend through all these years. She's read my blog religiously. My writing. She's tried to help hook me up with jobs. She sent me pictures of monkeys. She turned me onto Craig's List and Mediabistro-- and those both provided jobs for me. Some horrifying and some entertaining, but still. Kate is always real. Which is a nice thing. Especially when she's only seen the loser version of me. God, bless her. On that note, I do need to get back to the screenplay. And the t-shirts. But I feel stuck on both. Even though I now know the ending of the screenplay. I see the scenes. I just felt like I needed to send some pieces of writing out into the universe that could potentially pay right now. If that's not a concept I don't know what is.

That's it. I'm done.