It's always the little things...
Dec. 30th, 2001 09:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladyspriteI like to think of myself as a fairly capable person. I can deal with a lot of things. I can even deal with big things. The little day to day stuff, minor mishaps, should be no problem at all.
Unfortunately, the little things don't play fair. They all team up to attack you, like a gang of malevolent spider monkeys hell bent on killing you by poking you repeatedly with nobbly little fingers. So instead of being able to deal calmly and rationally, I wind up falling to bits and raging at a lot of little teeny things that noone else notices.
I could deal with having to work on Christmas.
I could deal with having bronchitis, and spending my holiday vacation in the emergency room instead of with my mom and my little sister.
I could deal with the friend I was supposed to have New Years' plans with never getting back in touch with me, leaving me up in the air with nothing to do and noone to do it with, on what I happen to feel is the most important night of the year.
I could deal with dinner plans last night falling through in an amazingly frustrating if not-quite-catastrophic way.
I could deal with having to make a new dress for the play I'm in, and not being able to afford the 9 yards of 60" wide fabric that are necessary. I could even deal with none of the fabric stores here having any 60" wide fabric. Especially when my sweetie explains to me a plan to fudge the margins to get away with using 44" fabric. I could deal with shelling out almost $40 for the narrower fabric. I could deal with having to confront my measurements to plan the dress. I could deal with my boyfriend oopsing and realizing that no, we can't actually make the dress with the fabric we bought, and that I now have $40 worth of worthless scrap, and no money to buy more fabric to actually make the damn dress.
Individually, I could deal with all these things. Heck, I could even deal with *almost* all of them together. Get rid of any one, and I'd be fine. But the grand total came crashing down on my head somewhere around 4pm today, leaving me in a near-hysterical fit of snapping, snarling, and generally biting any hands that tried to sooth me.
But it got better. I cried, I stomped, I yelled, I cried some more, and then I dealt. I called the friend and worked out plans, I restrained myself from ripping up the fabric, and called my mom (the ultimate cure-all) to see if she can scrounge up something that will work. Antibiotics are taking care of the cold, and sleep should help with everything.
I'm okay. I'm handling things. But it's scary sometimes to realize how close I come to breaking down every time things get a little bumpy....
Unfortunately, the little things don't play fair. They all team up to attack you, like a gang of malevolent spider monkeys hell bent on killing you by poking you repeatedly with nobbly little fingers. So instead of being able to deal calmly and rationally, I wind up falling to bits and raging at a lot of little teeny things that noone else notices.
I could deal with having to work on Christmas.
I could deal with having bronchitis, and spending my holiday vacation in the emergency room instead of with my mom and my little sister.
I could deal with the friend I was supposed to have New Years' plans with never getting back in touch with me, leaving me up in the air with nothing to do and noone to do it with, on what I happen to feel is the most important night of the year.
I could deal with dinner plans last night falling through in an amazingly frustrating if not-quite-catastrophic way.
I could deal with having to make a new dress for the play I'm in, and not being able to afford the 9 yards of 60" wide fabric that are necessary. I could even deal with none of the fabric stores here having any 60" wide fabric. Especially when my sweetie explains to me a plan to fudge the margins to get away with using 44" fabric. I could deal with shelling out almost $40 for the narrower fabric. I could deal with having to confront my measurements to plan the dress. I could deal with my boyfriend oopsing and realizing that no, we can't actually make the dress with the fabric we bought, and that I now have $40 worth of worthless scrap, and no money to buy more fabric to actually make the damn dress.
Individually, I could deal with all these things. Heck, I could even deal with *almost* all of them together. Get rid of any one, and I'd be fine. But the grand total came crashing down on my head somewhere around 4pm today, leaving me in a near-hysterical fit of snapping, snarling, and generally biting any hands that tried to sooth me.
But it got better. I cried, I stomped, I yelled, I cried some more, and then I dealt. I called the friend and worked out plans, I restrained myself from ripping up the fabric, and called my mom (the ultimate cure-all) to see if she can scrounge up something that will work. Antibiotics are taking care of the cold, and sleep should help with everything.
I'm okay. I'm handling things. But it's scary sometimes to realize how close I come to breaking down every time things get a little bumpy....
