You know when you’re on a roller coaster, that part right after a seriously terrifying drop, when you’re just glad you’re alive and stable and not falling anymore?
That’s me today.
For the second month in a row, ovulation has been accompanied by a huge emotional release (read, sobbing uncontrollably for about an hour.) Last month it was right after the Kest workshop. I made it out to the car and about half a block down the road before I had to stop.
Yesterday it was triggered by some stupid work shit – someone said something through someone else, and I took it really badly, thinking that my friendship with the first someone had been compromised. In truth, it was more of the same shit on a different day, but it caught me at just the wrong time, I guess. I felt like a bucket of cold mud had been slowly dumped on me. I lost feeling in my hands for a minute or so. I felt like I was going to throw up.
Fuck it, I thought. I’m going home and make me some pies. I don’t do this usually – I’ll go in the bathroom and have a good cry, then get back to work in some way. But I won’t just disappear. This time, I left. I managed to tell my boss, then poured my overemotional self into the car and limped home.
Next month, I’m hoping to anticipate this by not only upping the Lexapro dosage, but also by getting my hands on the most awful tearjerker movie I can find and triggering that meltdown at home instead of in a car. Safety first, after all. (If you have any recommendations, do share.)
The little pies turned out well, by the way. The Granny Smiths here are very tart compared to what you’ll find in your usual grocery store (where they’ve been sitting and sugaring up for weeks) so I needed a bit more sugar than I’d expected. The puff pastry was very easy to work with and, as promised, puffed up nicely. I will definitely be using it more often in the future. There’s a recipe for a chicken pot pie using puff pastry that sounds delightful.
Duckie’s grandmother and step-grandfather came in just as the last batch was going into the oven. Brian showed up at the same time, and they all had a nice happy session talking about TV and how much they enjoyed Fox News. In my rather fragile emotional state, I had to resist the urge to pick up my daughter and escape to the nearest Buddhist retreat.
Before I leave tonight, I’m going to teach her to say, “No Fox News, Grandma! I want the Daily Show!”
Somehow I managed most of the packing last night after Duckie had finally gone to bed. I don’t envy Grandma this weekend. Getting Duck to bed is going to be hell. Bed fairly early, enough to get up for the long Kest practice, as I’d skipped the day before entirely.
I didn’t know it was possible to fall asleep in downward dog.
I really ought to spend a few minutes with a cup of hot tea to wake up in the mornings during the early sessions. I found myself struggling to stay awake and alert, and the urge to drop down into child’s pose and nap for a couple of hours was pretty strong there for a while.
On the other hand, having two hours to focus on practice and consciously let go of the shit from yesterday was invaluable. Not to mention the benefit of a three-minute shoulderstand to relieve eyes puffed and swollen from crying – it works a hell of a lot better than cucumbers.
My friend Coz won’t be able to make it to LEAF until tomorrow morning. So if I can drag Brian to bed early, we’ll be in great shape for Saturday, whatever we decide to do. (Somehow I doubt he’s gonna wanna do the partner yoga class.)
I should have brought a jacket to work. Temperature is already dropping. Brrrr. Wonder if there’ll be frost on the mountain tonight? I’ll find out, soon enough.