Ridiculous 

ri•dic•u•lous

Adjective 

deserving or inviting derision or mockery; absurd. “when you realize how ridiculous these scenarios are you will have to laugh.” Synonyms: laughable, absurd, comical, funny, hilarious, risible, droll, amusing, farcical, silly, ludicrous;

 

I didn’t check, because frankly my Webster’s is still in a box somewhere, but I’m fairly certain that my picture is listed directly under the above definition. I honestly LOVE this word just because of how it rolls off the tongue, and is a spell from Harry Potter. Lucky me, ‘cuz today this defines me. (See what I did there? St. Patrick’s day…)

Just when you think you’re doing well… your sense of humor appears to be back, food tastes decent again, you felt attractive for 2.5 seconds right before lunch…. you fall face first on the pavement. No reaction time. No arms up to catch yourself. No warning, really. No one to catch you… and ain’t that a B?!

I admit, I woke up grumpy. I’m not going to list the reasons. Complaining really is NEVER the solution. I tried to bolster my own spirits with lipstick and cherry coke. It almost worked.

You ever feel like you’ve got a secret, that you think you’re keeping well, and you’re managing, and then someone bursts your bubble by telling you you’re terrible at keeping secrets? That’s where it’s at today. My boss pulled me into an impromptu meeting and promptly told me my work performance this week is SEVERELY lacking. So I did the rational thing, I burst into tears.

Let me be crystal clear here: I don’t cry in public, or at work, or social settings, or in front of people, EVER. I just don’t do it. If you’re seeing me cry it’s a big deal. Or I couldn’t help it. I straight up am a big baby crier, I just keep it under wraps. Movies? Cry. News? Cry. Watching my best friend cry? Cry. I’m so empathetic that members on the phone make me cry. I’m honest about it…but you won’t see me do it unless you catch me at the right moment and I trust you.

Bawling, Kim Kardashian ugly crying, right in the fecking middle of the office. Made my boss cry, right before she handed me information about the employee helpline for work.

You guys, I’m not some newb that’s never been down before. I’m not in my “deepest darkest times” when it comes to depression. I’m just a little… off kilter. I miss my son. My apartment is too quiet. I’m not sleeping well. I’m lonely. I’d be honest if I was thinking about wrapping my lips around the tailpipe of my car or something. It’s really not that bad. Or am I just lieing to myself? ‘Cuz clearly, my boss is not convinced.

Here’s the thing: I really don’t feel the worst I’ve ever felt. My self-talk is good, upbeat at times even. I’m doing all the “things”. Exercise, drink water, eat, spend time with people, deal with my mother when she calls on the phone. You know, adulting.

I will shake the cloud that’s hanging over me. I will come out the other side. I’m visualizing it now as a matter of fact.

The boss didn’t care what I told her. The crying did her in. She sent me home for the afternoon, to pull my S together. Ok. I’ll go home. I walked out with as much dignity as possible for someone with slits for eyes could, and cried all the way home. Guess she opened the flood gates. Or maybe it’s retrograde…? *smirk*

When I got home I had every intention of taking a nap or bath or read or rest. Nope. When having an emotional breakdown one must put together IKEA furniture and eat red vines. I actually think this is a new rule. Write it down.

One must also wail, possibly face first on the carpet of the living room, because no one sees you so it’s ok to be broken, and damaged, and achey, and sad, for that one moment. It’s really only long enough to get it all out and then contemplate your next move. Dwelling and feeling like a failure is fleeting and momentary and brief. The sun is still out… and your eyebrows looked even today… and you still have stuffs to do… so moving forward and getting over your missteps is your next best option to dissolving into a giant, sad faced, puddle of goo.

With my very serious face on, puffy eyes or not, I’m telling each and every one of you, whoever you are, that I’m working through it. It may not look like it. It may be that I seem to be falling apart. I may still cry LOTS more, and make an obscene amount of poor dietary decisions over the next who knows how long, but I have faith in me. I’m hoping you do too.

**However, I’m not one to pass up any well-wishers, good vibes, prayer or hugs. Or chocolate. If you thought of me and felt the need to do/provide any of the above, I promise not to make it awkward by choking up or something. Ok. Good talk.

Xoxo

C

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