Super Tuesdays

This is actually an entry into my journal that I wrote as therapy to myself a few weeks ago after one of the worst days on record.  I'm posting it here 

1. To remind myself of the absurdity of my reactions in times like these
2. To share a good laugh with everyone now that we can look back at it
3. To prepare for the next Super Tuesday coming up this week

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today was an ugly, ugly, day.  One of the worst in a long time.

I started out like any other tuesday: Sydney out the door at 7:06am to her bus and the rest of us off to kids club at Southwood glen. Switch from parent to?: Governance and compliance guy. Because of all the construction on the road and the sidewalks around JCI I arrive a few minutes late for an important 8:00am meeting. nice.  starting off on the wrong foot.

I got very little done at work.  I was nervous, anxious, and uncomfortable in my chair the entire time.  I'm feeling increasingly depressed, fat, heavy, and angry about it.  So I said, ok I’m getting little done in the first place, why not just take some time to calm down and relax.  I couldn’t.  Flat out couldn’t.  It was uncomfortable to sit still, uncomfortable to try to clear my mind, uncomfortable to try to relax.  I felt jittery and nauseous.  So I took  moment to try and find some guided relaxation or meditation apps for the phone to help me _just relax_.  I found one but it only lead to later complications (more on that in a moment).  Fast forward to the end of the workday, too quick in fact, for me to feel like I provided any value and it's time to switch from Governance and compliance guy to?: logistics expert and chauffeur.

It was a “super tuesday” which meant that Sydney had outdoor club, Natalie had Girl scouts AND Gymnastics.  This requires me to leave work at an earlier time so that I can 
1) pick up Natalie at scouts
2) drive home to pick up Kristin
3) quickly drive to the Middle school to pick up Sydney at a later than normal time because her group had an outing
4) get to the YMCA in time to get to Natalie’s gymnastics class

…in the span of 50 minutes.

Now please don’t get me wrong, by letting the kids into these activities I signed up for the complexity.  I know that, and I’m not complaining.  And normally, I enjoy the fact that I'm able, organized, and blessed enough to accomplish all this.  But today was a whole new level of frustration and anger that broke me.

Left work at a decent time to get to Natalie.  With my mental state there was no chance for me to fall asleep at the wheel.  So on the way I was listening to the relaxation app I downloaded previously.  On it there were various ambient noises that you could add together and listen to and decompress.  I selected the "woodland rain” and “bullfrogs” noises.  As a kid, I loved listening to the bullfrogs at my Grandparents place on the channel, and to me, there isn’t anything more soothing than the sound of rain in the woods.  No problem, right?  Sounds like bliss. I click both of those and press play....hmm very soothing, I could really enjoy this...., WHAM!  My mind flew to a moment that Jen and I shared in the 90's.  It was before my in-laws had built their place on Kolpack lake and we were camping there.  It was a hot, rainy summer evening, and the bullfrogs were out in full force.  We went for a walk, and we were soaking wet, but we didn’t care.  Remembering that moment hit me like a cattle prod.  So much for relaxing, now I'm back to where I was AND depressed.

It’s amazing, and frightening, to realize that over a year after Jen's passing, things can hit you like that.  You come out of it scared.  You go back on guard looking out for the next thing that could send you back into an emotional fit.  You go back shutting things out.  Trying not to feel what you're doing at the moment in the belief that if you let yourself feel it’ll just trigger more grief.  And you’re simply tired of grieving.  You're tired of constantly looking out for what's going to set you off that emotional cliff.

So I get to Natalie on time, and we head to the house. We're on time.  Get to the house to pick up Kristin.  Throw some venison sticks, tortilla chips, and hummus down the gullet as a snack.  Why? It was the closest thing to the front of the fridge, required no prep, and can't spill in the car.  ....off to pickup Sydney.

We actually get to the middle school a minute early.  hey! a WIN!  Sydney, hops in and were off to the YMCA.  About 3 minutes in, Sydney indicates she's lost her iPod.  WHAT?!  Decision time. Go back, maybe find the iPod and make Natalie late for gymnastics (which she looks forward to all week), or drive on, fore go the iPod (which was mine before being given to Sydney) and get Natalie to gymnastics on time.

CRAP!  I flip the car into the round-about like a Formula one racer rather than the 3-ton Rhino she is.  The kids eyes get as big as the round-about, due to the ferocity in which I turned the car around.  I yell back to Sydney "You have to be more responsible!"  She breaks into tears, starts frantically going through her backpack desperately trying to find it.  Desperately trying to keep from disappointing me and feeling bad about herself.  About 15 seconds later she finds it.  I turn the car into a subdivision and again violently flip it into a 180  degree power-slide ( not easy OR recommended with an AWD car) to get back in the right direction.  The kids are now throughly cowed.  They realize "Asshole Dad" came home tonight.  Nice going Chris.  Well played, asshole.

During the whole drive I'm trying to figure out how to handle a particularly messy dues matter with the Homeowners association.  I'm the president, so I'm the focus for the memberships' angst.  There's a call with the treasurer tonight.

We get to the YMCA, and I realize I'm right there on the edge of blowing my stack.  I try not to interact with anyone because I'm trying to avoid triggers.  Natalie heads to her class and the three of us grab a table.  I dive into a TIME article about how vets with PTSD get sent to prison for how they react to stressors back in the states, and never receive any sort of treatment once incarcerated.  How living 'on point' for so long resets your default anxiety level to 11 and breaks off the knob so you can't turn it back down.

Wow.  I'm nowhere near  combat,  and my situation is nowhere near the danger level our soldiers face.  But holy crap, the fact that I have tried to solve everything, and stay alert for every problem, and apporached every issue as critical and HAS TO BE solved over the last three years has taken its toll.  Regardless of the different reasons for getting to this state I can't help but relate to the people in the article.

Sydney's forgotten a pencil to do her homework.  I almost blow it, but I keep my cool.  I calmly go down to the desk and borrow one.  Problem solved.  Sydney later needs Kristin to hand over my phone so she can use the calculator, Kristin continues to play a game. Almost blow it, but I keep my cool and firmly tell Kristin to hand it over.

We decide that since it's now 7:30 and none of us have had dinner or been home since 7am this morning that we'll head home and make some pizza in the oven.  The ride home is uneventful except for the fact that Girls each ask how they can help me.  They believe that they're part of the problem. Wow, reality check.  Your kids blame themselves for how screwed up you are.  Way to go Chris.  How the hell did you let them put this on themselves? I assure them that they aren't the problem and that they can't "fix" me, and that i've got to make some changes in order to get better.

We get home, I preheat the oven for the pizza, and get on the homeowners association call.  The call goes well but the answer requires me to speak with the attorneys in the near future.  Great, lawyers.  SO looking forward to that.  During the call I hear the oven beep, so supposedly it's preheated.  I put the pizzas in and set the timer for 13 minutes.  I announce "dinner in 13 minutes!" to great applause.  I go back to taking notes on my laptop.  The timer goes off, I open the oven and... the pizzas are no wher near done, and the overn is cool enough to stick my hand in it.  "Hmmm, OK I was distracted.  That happens.  I didn't do something right and the pizzas need more time.  I set the timer for 10 minutes and announce "dinner in 10 minutes!" to slightly less applause. I realize that, at this point I REALLY need to stop, close the eyes and relax.  I lay down on the living room floor and wait for the timer to beep... BEEP. grrrrr. The ten minutes are over.  

To Myself: "OK it sucks to be having dinner at 9:15 but at least I didn't feed my kids fast foo...WTF! the pizzas are colder than they were 10 minutes ago! And the oven is warm but certainly NOT at the 425 I set it at.  OK there has to be something wrong with the oven. Door closed? check. Power? check.  Any gas smell? nope, check, anything somehow on the bottom of the oven to impede the burners? nope, check.  OK you SOB, I'm shutting you down and setting you for 525.  Let's see how you like THAT.  Oh an since I've still got pizzas in you I'll set the timer for 5 minutes.  JUST IN CASE you decide to work." 

I go to lie down again, wait for the timer to beep, BEEP. grrrrr.  5 minutes over.  Sydney, sensing my highly elevated frustration level, goes to open the oven.  Whoosh!  a cloud of smoke billows out of the oven along with a with a blast of hot air.  Super, not only did the oven decide to wake up, it's managed to burn my piz...BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! the smoke alarm triggers.  And since they're all wired together they ALL trigger. grrrr.  

Stop the smoke: I grab the Pizza pans and instruct one of the minions to open the patio door. I walk out and fling the pizza pans into the backyard with the force of a day's worth of frustration.  

Stop the smoke alarms: grab a chair and one by one hit the 'off' buttons.  So for a minute, I'm continually getting close enough to each skull splitting alarm to turn it off.  The last one on the journey happens to be in my bedroom so I pull the chair in there and step up... CRAP!  That $%*&%^*'ing tray ceiling in the master bedroom means i can ONLY reach it with the step ladder in the garage.  At this point I'm beaten.  Didn't matter that alarms were going off, the pizzas were ruined, the kids hadn't eaten, I hadn't accomplished a thing all day, I couldn't relax, I was late for meetings.. I was done.  I shut down the emotions, went to the garage and got the step ladder, lugged it upstairs and turned off the alarm. I instructed the kids that if they were hungry they should make some peanut butter sandwiches.  I went up to my bedroom, closed the door, literally flopped onto the bed in the same clothes I had on since 7 this morning, and ended the day.  

The Girls, to their credit, managed to get themselves to bed.  When? I have no clue.  I woke up at 3am still wearing my work badge.

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FYI the pizza crusts are still in the back yard.