Emotional Fragility

In the past, I’ve talked about that time of the month where I lose emotional control.  Upon reflection though, I want to restate that.  It’s not that I actually  *lose control* of my emotions. Because, I generally do not.  I am usually pretty good at keeping the crazy locked down.  Most times, no one would know what’s going on just below the surface.

I will feel a certain way and sometimes the bit of me that remains sane will question it.  “Are you sure you’re just not in SPAZLAYLA time?  Take a deep breath and think about the rest of the month and ‘WHAT WOULD LAYLA DO’  then?”

Sometimes it’s hard tho, because what I’m feeling seems so reasonable and justified in the moment.   I sort of. .. spazzed out on him last week.  Total PMS meltdown.  I’m not even going to go into it because the whole thing just makes me feel stupid.  AND it’s not really funny and I don’t like to tell unfunny stories.  However- that being said, one of the reasons I find him so incredibly awesome is that he’s never once blown me off because of PMS.  Cuz he could have and there wouldn’t have been much I could say.  “Yeah- revisit this in a few days when you’ve chained up the dragon again.”

Sometimes, that’s an apt image.  I feel that way then:  impatient, touchy, and a hair-trigger for irritation, hurt-feelings, and annoyance.  A dragon pacing around in my head, just waiting for the slightest provocation to go flying off and *attack*.

On a lighter note, though, I often amuse myself when I see where I’m going and can ..head myself off at the pas .  This afternoon, my boss’s wife was zooming around the office on a tear about redecorating and making it look nicer.  She’s jerking our plastic mats away from us to throw away, planning paint projects, etc.   I end up having to drag  my boss in order to rescue my plastic mat back. She convinced me to give it up for a moment and then my chair was not rolling right.

So I’m back  in my chair and the world is right and I’m just  working along when she calls my boss into the conference room.  I follow him in there because I’m just betting it’s going to be funny. And at first it is.  She’s telling him they have to throw away the big palm tree. It’s huge.  Potted.  But – she’s sick of it.

Here’s the thing: I don’t care even a little about the palm tree. But she’s telling W that it has to go and I’m like… tilting my head trying to imagine that corner of the room without it. She glances over at me with a big smile and says; “It’s been here for 17 years. But now it has to go.”

I misted tears over it.  That was the saddest thing I had ever heard.   By the time I get back to my desk, (about 5 steps) I’ve realized what just happened and I’m laughing about it.  She’s all “OH IT WILL GROW BACK! I PROMISE!!!!”

“No. I’m ok, now. I promise.”

And I really will be. In a day or so.   For about 3 and a half weeks, I’ll be my normal laid-back self that I like.



~ by Layla on August 8, 2011.

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