I promise at some point to do my best to entertain you with some witty and slightly off-color comments about what I did over the weekend. At the moment, I am just trying to listen to the rain falling outside and breathe in the fresh smell wafting in through the windows and find some kind of calm there.
There was a small incident at work on Friday night and it was like I could literally feel the rubber band snap inside my brain. Before I knew it, before I could control it, I had tears running down my cheeks in rivers. Waves of shudders shook my shoulders and I struggled to catch my breath as I fought against the panic attack that was threatening to cripple me while I was still on the clock. I stacked bread baskets, folded napkins, wiped counters, all in the name of keeping my hands and mind occupied.
When I got home, I felt like a battered woman trying to hide her black eye. The evidence of my pain was written all over my puffy red face and it took Evan all of four seconds before he wanted the details.
I had swollen eyes when my alarm went off early on Saturday morning and despite my desperate need to go for a run before the boys got up, I was even more desperate to stay under the comfort of my covers because the prospect of having to climb out and face the day simply felt too daunting. I had an old friend coming into town later to run a race and I knew I was going to need to have my smile on so I could give her a decent cheering section.
People dressed like this guy where stationed all over the 5K obstacle course, threatening to "infect" every runner as they passed by.
While it made for a pretty cool race, these zombies sure reminded me a lot of how I'm feeling. I trudged back into work on Saturday, knowing full well that word of my little meltdown would have spread like wildfire. I'm pretty sure zombies aren't afraid of much, but I think I am legitimately afraid of my boss because I cowered like a puppy when he approached me on Saturday night. Without even meaning to, my eyes hit the carpet and I could feel my shoulders hunching toward my toes.
I'm just not me lately.
And it's hard to try to get your brood ready to smile pretty for the camera so you can get a gorgeous shot of your flawless family when the Mama feels like a zombie, the oldest boy has a busted face, and dad insists on wearing a hat that reminds you of the umpire in A League of Their Own who, in the immortal words of Tom Hanks, looks "like a penis with a little hat on." But we drove off anyway, in search of that perfect family photo where every kid is actually looking at the camera, nobody has a finger in their nose, and my hair isn't a frizzy ball o' crazy.
Then the storm hit. As the rain pelted our minivan and I tried to keep from losing it as my husband asked, "Is that HAIL??" (and yes, it was most definitely hail) all the images of the portrait above my fireplace with the smiling kids and the blooming tulips disappeared.
Oh, and don't even get me started about what this kind of weather means for my hair.
In the midst of all this mess, I unintentionally hurt someone's feelings because my zombie brain was too overwhelmed by the near nervous breakdown on Friday coupled with the stressfest that is Family Photo Day to remember to think outside my own self.
But I find myself struggling to do that more and more lately. I'm stretched so thin that it's very difficult to see past what's right in front of me, kind of like driving in a downpour like you see above. I'm doing my best to remain sensitive to what's going on with those around me, but it's like my vision is impaired and my zombie brain is working at half speed.
Except instead of craving brains, all I seem to want is to sleep for 18 hours straight and then be hooked up to a coffee IV all day. In the meantime, I'm going to need to go buy some more under-eye concealer.
Up too late again,
Zombie Mom
