I've been thinking. About how I feel like a big baby in response to the load of really fun stuff that this week has thrown at me. Yes, the car window thing just shook me up and cost money. Yes, being sick is no fun, especially when you finally find out that it's the sinus infection kind of sick and as you are allergic to the usual antibiotics, you must take the designer ones that cost $50, with insurance coverage. And you hydroplane on the freeway because the weather is simply halacious. And your scarf that is keeping you warm gets shut in the door, and half it is sopping wet. And you want your Mommy.
Those who know me best know that, except for some mild complaints to my mother, I usually bear things well. I started thinking about whether or no my life is charmed or I just have on rose colored glasses. As I watched Maddie at her play about Australia, I was reminded that we are so VERY similar in that we are sometimes oblivious to what's going on. In their opening number, with the entire first grade singing to an audience of parents, and aunt, Maddie was the only one who couldn't be seen...except for the back of her cute lil head. She lives in her own world, very much like her dear Aunt Sarah. For it indeed was me who didn't cry at birth as I was so content to be born 3 weeks late, and fat I might add (see, I told you I was a big baby). In fact I seldom cried at all. It was also a little Sarah (in legwarmers) that 'struggled' to follow the group during dance classes, but when it came to free time with music and scarves, her teacher had never seen such a 'creative' dancer. And it still is me that, annoying as it may be, that still assures others that 'this too shall pass'. So it came as quite the surprise that I had intense desires to curl up and sleep until the new year, or the millennium, whichever might come first.
Yes I am an idealist, I think we should all just get along. And everyone should be trustworthy. And while my lot is far easier than many others, I think this outlook has helped me in coping much of my life. It was this culmination of conditions so far out of my control that got to me. The whole window thing just got me angry, and I abhor not being able to control my anger. And so I get angry with myself for being angry. Yes, it's a vicious cycle. Sometimes I prefer to live in my fairytale world where snow storms are something to get excited about. And people don't just go around smashing windows for no reason. I seriously think I would feel better about it if something was stolen so I could naturally assume that the culprit didn't want to inconvenience me in anyway but needed the money to feed his children....or some other such delusion.
Man, I really am diluted, aren't I.
What does any of this mean? I haven't the foggiest idea except it makes me understand why I have been feeling so awful about feeling so awful.