Do you ever cry over the fact that you don’t have disinfectant to mop the floors with?
This happened to me yesterday.
I cried over the fact that I couldn’t clean.
And not just a few tears, we’re talking outright sobbing.
Was I having a mental moment? Possibly, I believe so. But I think I was also having a moment where everything got too much and that burden you carry around every day just got too heavy and I got squashed.
Into a puddle of tears.
Reason number 1: I realised yesterday that for some reason I’m not going to be able to do my 3rd subject that I took on because they want me to be there this week.
Reason number 2: When I’m already going up on Sunday morning for a week to do my Chemistry and ecology for a whole week.
Reason number 3: Being that I barely have 3 days of leave saved up since getting back from holidays I was stretching myself thin to do the week as it was.
Reason number 4: Add onto the fact that I get back on Sunday and the court case starts the Monday after which also means that I won’t be at work and not getting paid… Stress on top of stress makes me an emotional wreck apparently.
Reason number 5: I was feeling about as lovable as a slug across the path while you’re walking barefoot due to recent relationship breakdown and subsequent feelings of inadequacy and/or disappointment that I wasn’t worth the effort.
So I cried over my mop bucket.
And to make up for my hysteria at my world being totally uncontrollable I decided to take a holiday.
In November. To Tonga. Because that’s what you do when your world gets to hard right? Run away. You betcha. It always solves everything.
And not just running away anywhere either, it’s to another island. During whale migration season. That has lots of little islands and a king. A KING!
I hear they have paddle boarding. Since I have so much trouble walking straight I think I’ll ace this activity.
And I opened the invitation to anyone else who had an overwhelming urge to run away from all of their problems to bask in the sun, surf, insane activities and alcohol – applied liberally – to note the date in their diary’s. We’re going on a fucking holiday.
This, coupled with the funny goat video’s that one of my best friends kept plastering all over my facebook page made me get through the night without further meltdowns because we had also run out of paper towels in the kitchen.
It’s closer than Darwin yet in the Pacific. I do love my island sometimes.