Perfect Storm

It started out just being tired. Wanting one morning where I don't wake up to an elbow in my chest and a chin being rammed into my shoulder. Wanting just one more hour of uninterrupted alone time.

And not getting it.

Even after ushering both girls out the door and down the stairs, they were back less than a half hour later, one with an update on the condition of the kitten's eyes and the other just because she can't stand to be away from me for more than a half hour if she knows I'm in the house.

It went downhill fast.

I got up, frustrated. Unrested at all from the night's sleep. I got dressed and went downstairs, where I put away clean dishes. I folded laundry.

I was asked how I was this morning. I gave a look that basically said that all wasn't well.

It went downhill even further.

I cried. I said a few things I shouldn't have.

When I'm tired and overwhelmed, my body issues feel huge. I feel huge. I felt sorry for myself and I wanted to hash it out, share it. Supposedly misery shared is misery lessened, right?

Except...no. It only made others unhappy too.

In the end, I went up and showered and decided that I needed to go get my hair cut. I didn't get much cut off, but it had been over a year since I'd had so much as a trim so off we went.

Yes, we. I don't leave the house on the weekends alone. Tom did suggest the girls stay with him but they wouldn't have it.

By the time we got back, four hours later, things are better. I think.

We're friends again, so that's nice.

Things have been aired. Things that had gone unsaid for too long. The bright light of day tends to make things seem a little less dramatic than they do when one dwells on them in the dark of night. Getting them out takes away their strength.

I hope.

We'll see.