Cracked Like Humpty

I yelled at the receptionist at work. She did and didn't deserve it. Mostly didn't. I just cracked under all the pressure I had been under and I took it out on her, and the thing is, I felt better afterwards. I made her cry and I felt better.

I immediately sent her a half-assed apology via e-mail, and then I sat down with my boss and told her the story while apologizing for my unprofessionalism. My boss in turn asked about the status of my medical problems and I cried a little in her office.

I brought the funk of the day home with me. I caught Scott in the hallway of our building about to take the Femme Fatale for a walk and I crazily yelled, "I had a rat bastard, cock sucker day!" for all the neighbors to hear.

"You think you had a bad day?!" Scott began. He then launched into how his day sucked without asking about mine.

I cut him off. "This isn't about you; this is about meeeeeeeeeeeee!" I shrieked and ran inside with my banner of crazy trailing behind me. I flopped myself down on the bed and cried—not with the dignity of silent tears, but wails of despair and a hint of temper tantrum.

Scott followed me in and tentatively sat down beside me, "What's wrong?"

I sobbed while I told him what a rotten person I was. His day honestly was worse than mine, and I greedily wanted the focus on me. My mental capacity couldn't take on anything additional. I told him about me belittling the receptionist into tears and the tension in the office I created.

"That's not like you at all," he frowned, concerned.

"I know, I've turned into this horrible monster!" I threw myself back down into the pillow and cried some more.

"Sarah, what is wrong?"

The thought had been running though my head for several days now. It was real, it was honest, and it was gut-wrenchingly terrifying. "I'm not happy," I squeaked.

Scott hugged me; he understood what I meant. This wasn't simply a bad day—this was a funk that had been going on for awhile now and I didn't see an end to it anytime soon.

"Being the sole budgeter, organizer, shopper, worker and provider is too great a burden. It's too great a burden on me," I cried.

***

The next day I came home to a spotless apartment, complete with vacuum tracks in the carpet. It was cleaner than I ever would have been able to get it. The laundry I started several days earlier and abruptly stopped had been folded and put away, even my clothes which he's never done before.

Scott was seated at my computer applying for a job on-line at Subway.

"I've never seen you this motivated before," I said as I dropped my bag by the front door.

"Yeah, turns out you can do a lot when you're sober," he replied. Sober. Scott had quit drinking.

He made me dinner and I watched a little TV before going to bed early. I've just been so tired. Lately I've been watching an episode of Gilmore Girls on DVD before drifting off to sleep. It's snappy and light-hearted, and has been the highlight of my day for several weeks. I turned the DVD player on to whatever disc of whatever season I was on and climbed into bed. "Come tuck me in!" I called from the bedroom.

Scott got up from where he was seated in front of the computer applying for jobs since I got home. I just meant for him to come kiss me goodnight, but Scott took my request literally and tucked the sheets in around me.

And it was the most comforting feeling I've had in years. I don't know why people give up on the tuck-in, but I am now a full proponent for it.

I woke up at 3 am. The lights were still on in the living room. It was the sound of the printer that woke me up and upon inspection I saw Scott was printing out more résumés. By this time, he had moved to the kitchen table and was filling out yet another application.

Things are only going to get better from here. I can feel it.



*Thank you to everyone who offered to send me money over the past week. I'm not starving nor facing eviction so I could never accept, but your kindness overwhelms me. Thank you.