Not Exactly My Kind of Holiday

Exactly 5 years ago today, I ended a 6 month boy fast my senior year of high school. I write that again for those who don’t know me. My senior year of high school, I went on a no boy/flirting fast for 6 months to learn exactly who I am. It was seriously one of the best times in my life. So every year since then, I’ve tried to make every St. Patrick’s Day special.

This year started with an emotional breakdown.

Now, I’m not one to be very emotional. Like I’ve said in earlier blogs, even typing this now, I’m mildly regretting writing it. But alas, I will persevere.

I woke up this morning and just felt overwhelmed. Like everything in the entire world I was worried about was on the forefront of my mind. Then I got a text message from my favorite teacher of time (who happens to be my academic advisor, the officiant at my wedding, and stand-in grandpa since mine passed away). All he said was that he missed me and wished I could be TA-ing his class this year.

I just started bawling. I seriously couldn’t stop. I couldn’t get ready for work; nothing could make me feel better. I feel so bad for Husband. There was nothing he could do but just lay with me.

All my thoughts just kept spiraling. What if I don’t want to move to Florida? What if I want to move back to California? When am I going to finish school? What if I don’t get hired at Disney? What if this apartment doesn’t help make me happier in this stupid city? Can I really make it 5 more months here before I go nuts?

I’m apologizing now. I hate writing blogs like this. I always feel so “whoa-is-me! I-have-a-full-time-job-a-place-to-live-and-an-amazing-family but wah wah wah”.

But this is my blog entry. So whatevs.

I ended up being 3 hours late to work. Not a normal occurrence for me as I am a very on time person.

So even now at work, I feel on edge. Like someone is going to say something to me and I’m just going to start crying. There are very few things I hate more than crying in public. One would be wetting my pants. That’s seriously how much I hate crying in front of people.

So now I’m avoiding everyone like the plague and just counting down the hours until 2:30 when I can escape to the safety and solitude of my car.

Hopefully I can make it 2 more hours.

Not exactly the type of memory I like to have for St. Patrick’s Day. But I guess they can’t always be fun.