Things were going just fine. F.I.N.E. I had a great weekend full of fun stuff (that's a whole other entry). I cleaned up the old garden and picked up garbage from my back yard. My ex-landlord came and got my washer all hooked up. I washed clothes and bath mats! I vacuumed. I cooked my most delicious version of grown-up Mac-N-Cheese yet. Garlic. Always add garlic. I slept and only woke up once in the night around 3 AM. It was a good weekend. But then Monday arrived. I've been having a hard time getting up at 5 to do my my yoga practice. Most of you I know would say "Who wouldn't have a hard time getting up at 5 AM?!?" and I admit it's a crazy time of morning. But this used to not be a problem. I have always been the early-to-bed-early-to-rise girl. Always. My parents used to come up to my room to tuck me in at 9ish and find that I'd already tucked myself in with that night's book hanging from my fingertips. Getting up at 5 AM should not be a problem. But it is. Or at least it has become a problem. This morning, I promised myself to get on my mat as soon as I got home just as long as I could sleep in a little bit longer. I had my yearly lady parts exam this morning, I needed the extra snoozin'.
Except, I didn't have my exam. I got to the doctors office, filled out paperwork, and waited in the waiting area listening to the receptionist argue with my insurance. "No, her husband died on the 10th. Her insurance shouldn't have ended on the 10th." This was the conversation that repeated itself in a loop until finally I was told that I would need to speak to someone at work and that since I was "un-insured", the doctor would not be able to see me today. I was able to get a prescription for my birth control that was running out and meet my new doctor. She seems really nice and was adamant that I should not "go without" and that if I needed for some crazy reason to get another note, to call her office immediately. I don't know how or why or what happened, but the tears started by the time I reached the elevator. And by the time I had reached the car, I was full on gasping for breath sobbing. And then just when I had gotten myself under control, the parking attendant said "have a nice day". Those four words started a fresh wave of tears and snot and hiccups as I made my way back to work. By this point I was pissed off because I couldn't get myself under control. And then when I finally did get myself together, I was pissed off that I had to walk into work with a face that screamed my loss of control.
Then Talaura reminded me that I'm grieving. And I was like "Oh yeah...". I really must learn to cut myself a little slack. Oh, and I did make it onto my mat.