I cried at work today.
Not because I was sad or angry, no.
I cried because my cash register was out of quarters.
As I hung my head low, counting out change through blurred vision and hoping the customers in line didn’t notice, I realized this must be the work of lady voodoo.
I guess the rest of the world calls it PMS, but I think it needs a more magical name. Because it’s bewitching to me that I can involuntarily make an ass of myself against all of my willpower.
The only thing worse than crying in public is someone noticing you crying in public.
I can lose it but then rein myself back in. Take deep breaths through my nose and out through my mouth. Repeating ‘you’re okay, you’re okay’ over and over in my head. And the moment I think, “See? I’m fine,” someone looks me in the eye and says those three magic words.
“Are you okay?”
BWAAAAAH! Suddenly the floodgates fly open, and the tears pour out. We are at ugly cry DEFCON 1. Coherent sentences are broken by sharp inhales.
I wish I had a business card to hand out to people warning them of what they were about to come in contact with.
Some days we’re just disasters. And that’s okay.
Sometimes you just need to take the day to fall apart. No one can be perfect all the time. Everyone’s entitled to a bad day now and then. But remember, it’s just a bad day, not a bad life.
So take the day. Eat chocolate. Cry. Just promise yourself you’ll try again tomorrow.
Besides, this is why we keep emergency wine stocked next to a box of cookies. Because hey, if your body did what ours did once a month, you’d cry too.