Jun 02

2006

Headaches

I have a headache. I’ve had a headache since yesterday really. Maybe not, maybe it’s been longer. But I like to trick myself into believing I’ve had a break in between headaches, so I add them in randomly. It doesn’t matter if I have coffee or not. Or if I eat breakfast or not. Or if I go to work or not. Or if I have a test to study for or not. I always have a headache. I’m not just talking metaphorically now, I mean my head always hurts. I would go whine to my Eric (the attention always makes me feel better), but he be taking a nap now because he caught a headache today too. I probably gave it to him anyway. Not that I mean mine are contagious, just that my presence lessens one’s immunity against them. That’s probably why I always have one. I stress myself out about as much as I do everyone else. Someone has totally got to give me a chill pill. Everything stresses me out: the weather, chores, school, work, going out, staying home, sleeping too much, not sleeping enough, germs, bugs, computers, alarm clocks, pillows, flannel sheets, my cat, the other cat, the spots on the floor upstairs, cooking dinner, letting Eric cook dinner, eating out, my shoes, my hair, the hole Eric covered up with a picture, the placement of the picture (even if I didn’t know about the hole behind it), my car, Eric’s car, other people’s cars, other people, the stuff in my car, bills. . .I’m not kidding when I say “everything.”

I suppose it’s only natural for a girl to be a little disapointed if she can’t find shoes to match with an outfit. . .it’s a girl thing. But I dont just have a moment of temporary disapointment, I’ll be contemplating my lack of shoe choice for the rest of the day and not focus on anything else. This, alone, will only make me irritable.

Irritable is ok if Eric doesn’t require too much attention at such a time. But It’s never just one thing. First I can’t find shoes to go with an outfit, then i can’t find and outfit to go with any of the shoes I do have because all the pieces to any one compelte outfit are never clean at the same time and I don’t have much to choose from in the first place. Then, when I finally find something, I notice a bleach stain or a tear that wasn’t there before, and I have a mini tantrum over how all that’s rest of my good clothing is becoming bad clothing. So I make do with something I also wore the last week and the week before that and before that too. But it doesn’t end here.

Now that I’m slightly irritable, I notice that I have little time left to get ready. . . even though I’ve managed to cut an entire hour off the time it used to take me to primp. This relieved a lot of stress for a while. Now I need one hour instead of two. I don’t do much. Wash my face, moisturize, rarely even bother with make-up and all that jazz. But if I wasted all my time looking for something to wear, it doesnt matter how quickly I can wash and moisturize. If I don’t have more time than I need, I stress out. The more stressed out I get thinking about it, the harder it is to concentrate on what I need to do. So I run around in pointless circles trying to remember what it was I needed to remember. My purse, my keys, breakfast, where did I set my cup of coffee? I usually end up forgetting something, such as my water bottle. Then I stress out at work because I don’t have a wotter bottle and I rarely have change on me for the vending machine. Eric might IM me, he might not. Either way, I’ve got it in for him. I am already so worked up with the events of the morning that I will take anything he says or doesn’t say the wrong way for the sake of argument. The heat and humidity makes it worse. if I was already getting stressed out, walking outside makes it worse. I feel sick and feversish for hours after being outside if I was already in an irritable/stressed out state. If there isn’t a lot to keep me busy at work, I start to contemplate everything I have to do when I get home. With so much time to contemplate, I’ve got my Bob burried in memo’s. I have to do the litter pan. I have to cook dinner, I have to finish my physics HW. I have to vacuum. I have to buy milk. I have to check on the finances and the bills. I have to I have to. . .no one is telling me I have to do anything. But I just can’t relax until I do.

Before I even get home, I’m already stressing out over how to avoid Eric’s roadblocks. He always wants to give me attention when I least want it. It’s usually in his best interest to go to his computer at these times. He only goes to his computer when I am not trying to get anything done and I do want his attention. Even if all he wants is a quick hug, I stress out because I am on a mission, and any little disruption makes me feel like I’m going to explode. Sometimes I do. Then Eric avoids me for most of the rest of the day. . . not what I had in mind either. I don’t even know how to explain the way I feel about all of this stuff. I feel that I am being entirely irrational and no sane person would have these problems. But apparently diagnosing my own problem does not cure it.

As soon as I open the door, if it is one of those especially stressed out exessive-memo-for-Bob days, I run past Eric and lock myself in the bathroom before he can stop me. This way I can try to calm myself down about some things. Breath a little, brush my hair. Freshen up so I don’t feel so weighted down. Something about a quick touch up and brushing my teeth makes me feel a little more free. By the time I open the door 5 or 10 minites later, Eric has abandoned his spot in-the-way and I rush downstairs to do the litterpan. Eric is usually at his computer, which happens to be in the same room as the litter pan, but he generally leaves me alone when I have such a pleasant smelling task in front of me. Then, before he can notice that I’m finished, I ask him to take out the garbage along with the bag of kitty ickies so that I may rush upstairs to do the dishes before he can disrupt me again. The very process of avoiding disruption, itself, stresses me out. I would much rather be with Eric. Watching TV or taking a walk or anything just with my Eric, but as far as he is concerned, I am mad at him. But I’m not mad. I’m trying my hardest not to take my problems out on him when I first get home. This is why I try to keep him out of my way until I’ve completed my self-appointed tasks. When I am done is when I could really really use a little Eric, but by then he has given up on me and doesn’t seem so keen on giving out any attention. I guess it has an expiration. . .the attention, that is. When I try to ask for attention, he sometimes returns my irritability and I get all feeling sorry for myself and he gets all glued to his computer and that’s that. But I can always look forward to the next day. It’s like he renews his allotment of attention to give to me each day.. .and if it’s a less-than-too-irritable day for me, I get to have it before it expires. I just hope that it is forever renewable or that I can find me one of them chill pills before Eric stops forgiving me.

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I am: Shelley Limegrover

Where: Laramie, Wyoming

What: A Princess

Married to the most wonderful husband ever.

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Had my first night observing at the WIRO telescope last night. Hopefully another tonight if the weather holds up.

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