the arrested development of my horrible, terrible, no good very bad day; or, why i now understand why they call it the curse

PMS just sucks.

i mean, really and seriously sucks.

do you remember that episode of the series “Roseanne”? where the kids and the husband look at the calendar and start freaking out because apparently their wife/mom has been possessed by the spirit of a demon from hell?

yup. that’s me today.

not so much the irrational rage and homicidal tendencies, but crazy insecurity and a way large tendency towards misinterpreting almost anything as somehow reflecting negatively on me.

i was having one of those days today.

it started out good.  i mean, i had a backache when i woke up, but i had slept well and i was going to institute, so it was all good.   i got the chance to break some pencils in institute class–broke like 6 of them together.  it was part of an object lesson, and i’m fairly certain that i wasn’t supposed to be able to do that, but i did it anyways.

maybe that should have been a sign?

then i got to talk to one of my favorite people.  i did some stuff that i had been meaning to do for a week.  i was all set to be way productive.

and then the day got derailed by the demon insecurity and it went a bit like this:

person 1: hi, carrie.

person 2: hey.

person 1: how’s it going?

person 2: [insert crazy sniveling whining fit here, brought on by nothing much at all]

so, ladies, you’ll understand this.   it just happens. and, guys, you understand it too.  girls are just crazy a little bit sometimes.  and while it annoys the ever-loving crap out of me when every emotion expressed by a girl is attributed to PMS by guys, for me? insecurity, whining, and craziness? almost always the result of the demon.

but here’s where my day gets worse.  or at least it started to get worse.

i felt really, really stupid about the whole thing. we hadn’t been talking about the weather or about the latest issue of InStyle. we’d been talking about something of consequence, and my lame reactions to it made what might have been an otherwise fine conversation be way more drama-filled than it needed or should have been.

commence the “stupid!stupid!stupid!” inner monologue.

[remember how i’m feeling]

see, i don’t like to be told what to do, how to act, or what to feel.  i don’t like to be human.  i mean, that’s just the truth. i would, if i could, be the superwoman caretaker of all, always in control of my own emotions, always appropriately sympathetic with a splash of spunky humor, always ready with words of wisdom from the times when life has knocked me down and broken my heart in private.

i do not like to show to other people, especially people that matter to me, that i am not as together as i aim to be.

but worst of all? i don’t like to feel like i messed up something.  i don’t like to feel stupid.

and, boy howdy, was i feeling stupid.

and then, not fifteen minutes after this all went down and i realized that i was, perhaps, the stupidest person on the planet and would have given just about anything to be able to push a rewind button and just scrap some semblance of reason together and act like a NORMAL PERSON instead of an irrationally crazy girl, my phone rang.

a friend of mine had called for no other reason than she’d been thinking about me and felt like she needed to call me right then.

cue the waterworks, which had been threatening for at least half an hour probably.

so i told her that i had been having a no good terrible rotten awful bad day.

and she listened to me talk about how crazy i thought i was and about how i wished i had done it all differently.

she told me that i was human. and that that’s okay to be human. and that she loved me.

and she, just by being her and being an instrument in the Lord’s hands when i needed her to be, reminded me of who i am.

i am a daughter of a Heavenly Father who must love me something fierce to bless me so hugely.  He must know me so well to know what EXACTLY He could do to succor me at a time when, honestly, all i would have done was beat myself up for being a freaking idiot.

instead, i got to remember that, in fact, i am amazing.

and definitely human.

and seriously flawed.

but amazing nonetheless.

and that it’s okay for me to be less than perfect sometimes because the people that love me the most love me despite those crazy flaws. in fact, some of them, i think,  love me more because i show those flaws sometimes.

because when i do, i show that, even though i can take care of other people, sometimes i need to be taken care of as well.

i show that, in this armor, there are quite a few chinks. i just hide them well.

we all do, don’t we?

in the process, i think i regained some perspective.  i think i realized some things about myself.  i’m always afraid that the people who see all of the parts of me–most especially the bad parts, or the parts that i don’t like–will decide that i’m not worth the effort.

i’m pretty sure that’s my greatest fear.

but the tiny voice inside of me–the one that’s nearly always right–tells me that, actually, those are the things that make me even more extraordinary. and maybe that me worrying so much about that does more to push people away than just being who i am and embracing it.

crazy days and all.

so, my horrible, terrible , no good very bad day has actually turned into something quite beneficial–perspective.

i needed some of that.

what i really don’t need?

any more of this crazy.  seriously. we’re all full up here.

sheesh.

and wow.

[and i’m cracking myself up here, so that must be a good sign, eh?]

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