Down in the Dumps

Ladies & Gentlemen, I start this entry out with the ending of my story.

I shit my pants yesterday.

Yes. You read correctly. You now have fair warning to turn away and read something vastly more interesting and less disgusting on the internets, if you choose to do so. But first; let’s go back to the beginning.

I have been working, nursing, cleaning, driving, parenting, cooking, and overall spinning in circles for the last 6 weeks since my husband had major surgery. He is under every restriction there is in the history of medicine, which means that I am now as unrestricted as a hooker at a rodeo. Only I am not doing it with cowboys.

I am tired. Physically and mentally. I am working hard at work, at a job I hate, dealing with a 3 year old with OCD, worrying about my bills, my future, my dirty bathroom, and really whatever else enters my mind. I have headaches, ringing in my ears, my hands are numb, and I wake up on bad days feeling like I don’t want to be a wife. I don’t want to be a mother. I want to cry but can’t (except for getting jacked in the head by my son with a back massager. I balled my eyes out from pain) and then of course I feel guilty for not being the head of my brood. Or mainly, not wanting to be the head of my brood.

So then I settle into the emo version of my depression. Everything makes me want to cry. Everything is the worlds fault. Everyone is out to get me. I look like an ugly bassett hound. I have a horrible attitude and my stomach is dragging by my toes. Oh, and I forgot to mention, whatever Goddess of Nature is in charge of periods really punched me in the gut this month too. Hard. My neck muscles are clenched so hard they feel like I am carrying picnic benches on my shoulders. Life is rough, people. Right now, life is rough.

Yesterday afternoon I barreled through a ton of work and sat at my desk feeling some relief. Things were looking up. I had gotten a great nights sleep; my son has been a lovely little gentleman who has mastered the art of raspberries before bedtime. You know, the mouth farts on the belly? He loves those now, and I will take what I can get. I had a bowl of my favorite japanese soup for lunch, and just that morning on the train I just kept telling myself to snap out of it and rock it out. I start to feel a tingle in my nose and like a million times before, I sneeze. A harmless innocuous sneeze.

Then it happened.

I shit my pants. A combination sneeze and shit. A schnart, if you will.

Now, I had no idea what had just happened. I felt ok. No stomach aches, no pains, no pressure. I was used to peeing when I sneezed after the boy, but pooping? This was a whole new experience. So the first thing I do obviously is run to the bathroom.

After the initial shock of it all, I start to laugh and cannot stop. I do the obvious things you would do if you shit your pants, and then headed back to my desk. Now, here is something maybe you wouldn’t do. Or maybe you would, I don’t know. You are still reading this so something tells me you might. I get right on I.M. and share the wonderful news with Lulu. She says that after she is done laughing, she will try to help in any way she could. I yell to her in ALL CAPS that I need new drawers, and then I humbly ask her to smell the vicinity of my area. Yes, I did. And yes, she did.

Next I debate whether or not to share this with everyone on FB, but instead just put up a vague but truthful status that everyone loves, and a few even catch on pretty quickly. I never outright admit it, though. I text my husband who can only respond “OMG, I’m so sorry”. I didn’t know whether to laugh at his OMG, or that he felt such sympathy for me. I half expected an e-card, if he were that kind of guy. Judging by my beautiful Valentine’s gift of nada, I would say he isn’t. My other girlfriend confesses to this happening at her old job at a vets office, and luckily no one noticed because she worked with dog shit all day. She proclaimed to never eat Hooters again. I opened an old wound for her, and for that I am so sorry. Lulu saves my I.M. for our future book of embarrassments and jackassery, and neither of us can stop laughing.

By the end of the day, I realized that obviously I had taken so much so seriously for so long, that my body just said “STOP! Stop taking shit so seriously!”

I literally needed this to happen. Some people hit a wall before cracking. Or fall to the rock bottom of their lives before losing it. All I did was shit my pants. But I feel better now. And I needed that laughter at myself more than anything I have ever needed in a long, long time. The topic itself broke a lot of work tension and brought a few of us together like it used to be. A ring brought the fellowship together, why can’t a schnart bring together some stressed out office workers?

Ok, so there you have it. I am afraid to sneeze now, but overall, everything is back in place for me. I schnarted my way back to the general population. Or poopulation. Whatever, man. It’s all the same shit.




1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Jules
    Jul 13, 2012 @ 10:42:34

    First off, sorry about your little incident. Second, thank you for making me laugh so good, I was in much need!:))


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