Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Today? Today, I lost my shit.

I was in control all day. The to-do list for leaving a job with some ounce of grace is hellishly long, especially when you basically built the team from the ground up, know stuff that nobody else knows, and are trying to set up your successor for some amount of success.

I was very matter-of-fact when the ladyparts nurse called to say that one of my hormone levels is a mere 1 / 3 of what it should be, and a trip to the reproductive endocrinologist is definitely in order.

I was poised at the kitchen table, doing some extra work while waiting for My Guy to get home. We were going to go to dinner at my favorite vegetarian restaurant and then go to an event put on by the local indie book seller. I was being productive.

And he was late.

He was late enough that we would be pushing it to get through dinner and make the event on time.

The event that we were attending to celebrate my birthday, which is tomorrow.

He got home and promptly spilled pop all over the floor.

I put the dogs in their kennels and then just sat in the car. Driving away from the house, I just couldn't help it. "I'm mad. I'm sorry. I'm just really mad."

"Babe, I had a conference call at 5. I had to be on it so that I didn't have to get on another call tonight at 8. I'm sorry."

"I know. I'm just - I'm just really, really mad."

And then I started to cry. Ugly cry. Gasping, sniveling, huh-huh-huh crying.

We ended up eating burgers sitting in the car at a park. I couldn't stop ugly crying. I just couldn't stop! There's so much change. There's so little control. And with all the people leaving Corporate Behemoth, there are lots of good-bye happy hours scheduled. Nobody is throwing me a happy hour. And it hurts my feelings.

I know that in a few days, I will walk away from the insanity, and I will focus on righting my ship, on getting these hormones figured out, and getting myself in order. But right then? I just had to ugly cry.

As we sat in the car, we watched a father and daughter play tennis. They weren't very good.

"Would you consider your tennis skills better or way better than those being displayed right now?" my dear husband asked.

This just made me cry more. "I went out for tennis my freshman year," I said. "And I was so bad that the coach told me I didn't have to come to practice if I didn't want to."

"That is horrendous. That's a great story, but just terrible," he said.

Another sob came. "I knooooooow! What a bitch! I was trying, and she was so mean! And I'm never going to get pregnant! And nobody wants to drink beer with meeeee!"

I might be a touch exhausted, and have just a tiny issue with proper perspective at the moment. This, too, shall pass.

6 comments:

Mrs. G. said...

Happy Birthday, Beautiful.

Trixie Bang Bang said...

i just left my 22-year career, too! It's tough, and I made the decision for me, too - but it was still hard. I spent a weekend of ugly crying, and thought it was all better until my first day at my new job where I don't have any friends, and no one wants to drink beer with me. So I cried some more when I got home.
It's okay. We just need to wallow and then find perspective. And a burger doesn't hurt either - although my go-to-feel-better-food is cake. Because it's really hard to cry on a frosting high. Try it :)

Green Girl in Wisconsin said...

I've wanted to drink beer with you for YEARS now. Damn distance.
Happy Birthday. Change is hard. Let the ugly tears cleanse you while you get through this time.

jan said...

Happy Birthday! I hope you have a great year and a better today than yesterday!

Cyndi B. said...

Happy Birthday! Green is right...change is difficult. You're a strong person and you have a great support system. You're going to do great!

Kate said...

OMG OMG OMG. I'm like 6 weeks late, but I have tears in my eyes from this! OMG! You poor baby!

I want to take you to dinner, and pre-order you a drink so it's waiting on the table that is prominently reserved for us. ANd then they'll bring your favorite appetizer without even ASKING. And then the owner will come by and address you by name, pat your shoulder and ask you if everything is to your liking.

And then the handsome men at the bar will buy us a round of drinks, and we'll giggle and they'll suavely raise their glasses to us.

And then BLAMMO! Confetti and balloons and all your friends singing to you! Presents! Strippers! Laughter!

And then? You'll finally leave after all the festivities, and you'll see your lame-ass boss and some lame-ass former co-workers mumbling something about "well, we didn't get invited, but ... we thought we'd wait out here so we could wish you happy birthday. Is that ok?"

There. I feel better now.