I have prayed. I have cursed. I have screamed. I have been silent. I have tried that whole fake-it-til-you-feel-it crap and I have given in to believing that this really does suck. And now I think the time has come for me to be medicated again.
For everything there is a season. And this happens to be my sucky season. My season of sucakage. My season of inadequacy and intolerance and irritability. And I don’t need to talk it out. I don’t need to walk it out. I need to accept the fact that we live in a society that is free to medicate itself to its heart’s content using prescriptions obtained legally or otherwise.
I literally sleep-walked through my daughter’s birthday party on Saturday. But before I went into my self-induced trance, I was beyond proud of myself. Despite all of the distractions and lack of sleep I’ve had lately, I had everything decorated and ready to go a full two hours before the first guest was scheduled to arrive. All that was left was to get myself showered and dressed and my daughter bathed and costumed. Piece of cake. And that’s when Emma Kelly decided to make my life miserable. Out of nowhere, she comes tearing into my bathroom as I’m standing there butt-naked and ready to step through my shower door. Suddenly the costume she had loved two weeks before became the bane of her existence and she demanded to be taken to the store to buy a new one. Well, that wasn’t about to happen. So then she pouted her way through my shower. She pouted her way through her bath. And as I towered over her attempting to dry that mass of hair on her head, she made every attempt to have her bottom lip stretch all the way down and touch the bathroom floor. But none of this she does in silence. No, Emma Kelly pouts with her own annoying soundtrack, on repeat. After keeping my cool through all of that, EK finally won. I erupted. I yelled at her that she had to finish getting ready on her own and that she just had to figure it out for herself. And then I was done. I literally was done. I went on some sort of auto-pilot and just cruised my way through the rest of the day.
I pretty much said hello to everyone and then did what I had to do to get from Point A (party started) to Point B (party over). And that was it. I shut down. And now it’s been almost 24 hours since the party was over and I feel like I’ve just been spinning my wheels because nothing is in order. I wish to God I could get out of this Madonna concert I have to go to tonight but I can’t. And now I have to juggle EK’s schedule because once again, the people I depend on to help me don’t come through. Again. And now I’m thinking about that appearance I agreed to do tomorrow night and how I have to juggle EK’s schedule yet again and inconvenience even more people and all I want to do is pull the covers over my head and sleep for a week straight. Maybe two. And that’s why I need to be medicated again. And if the good doctor can throw in a prescription for diet pills, I’d be very appreciative. These twelve pounds sure did creep up awfully fast. And I can’t believe I’m about to post this, but I am. Sorry I’m not shooting sunshine out my butt, but maybe with a little Prozac and prayer, that can change.