Admitting Defeat

Today* I admitted defeat.

Nothing extraordinary, just one of those days when life threw you a bit more than what you felt you can take.

Something in me just snapped, and before I could stop it, all I saw was red.

I lost my temper and it was like a bomb just exploded from deep within me.

Months of repressed emotions quickly rose up, eager to be unleashed, as if they had waited forever to get out.

I shouted.  Over and over again.

I screamed on top of my lungs until my throat hurted and the veins on my face and neck tightened painfully.  I slammed my fists on the wooden desk and hurled my phone across the floor.

Grief oozed out from my every pore.  My body started shaking from half-spent anger and desolation.

Slumped on a chair, I gripped both armrests in my fists and howled in agony.  There were no words, just animal-like sounds coming out of my mouth while tears flowed freely down my face.

I did not want to stop.

When my wails turned to whimpers, I slipped down to the floor and crawled to the corner of my study room, tucking my curled up body into the comforting nook between two walls.

Silent tears continued long after fatigue took over.

I floated in a state of semi-consciousness, in and out, in, out... until darkness and sleep finally arrived and claimed me.

*This post was written on November 19th, 2011

Sweaty, the Mama Bear.

Yesterday night, I was in Miss Chatterbox room when I found this note on her desk.  It was a note addressed to her friend, Chloe.  Miss Chatterbox and Chloe have been friends since they were in preschool together three years ago, and my daughter has always considered Chloe her 'best-friend.'  

Until now, that is.

Translation:  

Dear Chloe, 

I am sorry.  But I know you like Annika, okay?

I will let you play and be her best friend.

I will find another be[st friend].

I know that I'm the Mommy, and I'm supposed to be all mature, level-headed, and all that.  But boy, did I want to kick Chloe's butt right that instance for hurting my little baby's feelings!!!  (Yeah, real mature there, Sweaty).

While my head realized that this was just a fact of life that my almost-seven years old daughter needed to learn to accept, my heart couldn't help but be broken for her too.  My 'mama-bear' instinct automatically kicked in... I wanted to protect her from anyone who hurt her, even if that someone was just another almost-seven year old pooper booger minx bumbledom little girl.  Knowing how children are, for all I know they're probably already back to being best-friends again by now.  But still...  it's difficult to see your child's feelings being hurt.

Well, as Mr. LA always said, he better get that shotgun ready because the day when I would tell him to shoot some boy's ass might come a lot sooner than I thought.  LOL. 

Linking up with:

Just Because I Like Being Alone Doesn't Mean I Don't Feel Lonely

Hosted by Things I Can't Say

You see, I like to be alone.  In fact, being the introvert that I am, I prefer to be alone most of the time, because I find comfort in being alone.

But that doesn't mean that I don't feel lonely.  Or that I like feeling lonely.  Because I don't. 

So it might be surprising for some to hear me say this.

That I'm lonely.

One of the hardest things I have to cope with during this marital crisis is the feeling of loneliness.  Funny I should say this, because it wasn't as if Mr. LA and I were together all the time or even that talkative to begin with.  Even when we were still dating, I was quiet and reserved.  I was never one to communicate well verbally (which later on did become a problem), and my way of bonding with him was mostly through hugging, holding hands, cuddling, or even sleeping next to each other with our legs entangled.  Those simple things made me feel connected to him; they made me feel safe and taken care of.

For the last three months though, I've been stripped bare of those things.  If there was already little physical contact before, now it's non-existent.  We each go through our days, treating each other civilly, sometimes talking more than usual, but without any physical contact.

And I missed that.  I missed that so much.  I missed having someone held my hand when we walked side by side.  I missed curling up and resting my head on the crook of his neck.  I missed sitting side by side, bodies touching, while we watch TV at home.  I miss the caring gestures, the pat in the back, the occasional shoulder rubs, the affectionate kiss on the cheek, the arm across the shoulder...

I have never felt as lonely as in the past three months.  Wherever I was, wherever I went, no matter what I was doing at the time, loneliness lingers.  It's become a part of everything that I experience nowadays.  I could be happy, sad, excited, tired, angry, or just plain bored, the one constant thing was that I always felt lonely.

I guess I just wanted to get this off my chest...

Slow Motion People

Have you ever woken up in the morning, feeling like it's gonna be a good day, everything's gonna be alright, and then BAM! you got hit by slow-motion people, and then it's pretty much f*cked-up for the rest of the day?

Well, if you haven't, effin' lucky you, because I have.  Several days ago, for example.

4:15 am: woke up, surprisingly cheerful considering I've got to catch a red-eye flight at 7:25am later that day.

5:05 am: checked-out of the hotel, luggage set inside the trunk, rental car waiting in front of the lobby.  Right on schedule.

5:28 am: arrived at the airport.  Now looking for the spot designated for rental car returns.

5:37 am: circled the departure entry twice, got lost once, but finally found the spot.  No biggie.

5:42 am: on my way to claim the tax refund, luggage on the cart.

5:55 am: tax refund took longer than expected, but luckily there was no queue.  Silently blamed the slight delay on the officer who handled my forms, and now on my way to the ticket counter.

6:00 am: jeez, of course the counter had to be at the end of the terminal of all places.

6:02 am: arrived at the ticket counter.  3 counters open, 8 people in front of me including children.  Cool.  This wouldn't take long.

6:10 am: why the line's still not moving?  I counted, still 8 people in front of me including children.  Hmm...

6:13 am: hadn't moved an inch.  8 slightly miffed (or was it just me?) people including whiny (again, could be just me) children in front of me.

6:13 am - 6:40 am: busy glaring, fuming, and (mentally) reciting all kinds of expletives found in the Sweaty's Very Own Dictionary at the staff behind the counters as the result of the following observation:

Staff A: in which she stared at the computer screen for a few minutes without typing.

Staff B: in which she won the award for the slowest-writing-ever September 2011 award.

Staff C: in which she seemed more engrossed talking on the phone than printing the already printed boarding passes (they were sticking out, all ready to be ripped off the dang machine).

Staff A: in which she had just started typing with her two pointer fingers.

Staff B: in which she took her time chatting with Staff A in between writing veeery slowly.

Staff C: in which she finally took the gawddang boarding pass out of the machine.

Staff A: in which she gently peeled the stickers one minute at a time, and applied it carefully on the four luggage that were on the belt.

Staff B: in which she momentarily closed her counter to do a bathroom check.

Staff C: in which she chatted up her client of the moment.

Staff A: in which she tried to move the luggage off her belt manually (did the machine break or somethin'?)

Staff B: in which she had just returned to the counter and now just staring at Staff A trying to move the luggage off the belt.

Staff C: in which she was tearing some boarding passes and throwing them into the trash bin.

Staff A: in which she was back to chatting up with Staff B while working on something in the computer.

Staff B: in which she giggled at something Staff A was saying.

Staff C: in which she left her counter to check with her supervisor.

Daggggggg Nabb Itt!  Seriously, could they be anymore s-l-o-w-e-r???

6:48 am: boarding pass finally in hand.  Fast-walking to the immigration counter.

6:54 am: (huffin' and puffin') passport stamped, now walking to my designated gate.

7:01 am: (half-runnin') still on the way to my designated gate.

7:05 am: (sweat drippin') what the f*ck?!?  Still 5 more gates to go???

7:09 am: (armpits wet) f*ck, f*ck, f*ck...

7:13 am: (armpits flooding) F*CCCCCCKKKK

7:20 am: (definitely not a pretty sight) finally seated inside the plane.

Needless to say, by then I was no longer feelin' like it was gonna be a good day.  Kill-maim-destroy was more like it. 

Now, back to the slow-motion people working at the check-in counter.  What in Sam Hill was wrong with these slow-motion people?!?  And why were they even employed IN AN AIRPORT of all places???  Helloooo??? Anybody working at the HRD there?

How could it be not part of their training, to be aware that whenever there was a long queue, it's an indication that either you're short of manpower, or you're just too slow.  And when you're slow, please, don't even think about chatting with your colleagues while you're working.  Trust me, you couldn't afford to!  And there's really no need to spend one minute for every sticker you peeled.  It's a luggage, for gawd sakes. Not a bloody scrapbook. 

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