Freak Out Snippets

November 15, 2011

I can’t stop listening to Florence + The Machine’s new album, Ceremonials.  I am listening loud.

My mother bought me a gorgeous bag* for my birthday.  It is more of a weekend bag than a work bag, but I’m forcing that square peg into a round hole this week, because it’s new and pretty.  See?

(And it’s waterproof on the inside.)  I am still working out what pockets work best for what belongings. So this morning, I had my T pass (a monthly pass that my employer re-ups every month) and my iPhone in the same back pocket.  I saw my T pass there when I slipped my phone in.  No question it was there.  But yet, when I got on the T, the pocket was empty.  No T pass.  Fortunately, the driver let me on, but she was strongly suggesting that I instead get off the train and go find my pass (since the monthly ones are relatively valuable, and not easy to replace).  I shrugged and said, “I’ll have my husband go look for it.”  I was certain that the rubber case of the iPhone grabbed onto the T pass and caused it to fall on the ground.

Of course, being my Knight in Shining Armor, WD went right out to retrace my steps.  And he found my T pass.  In the exact same place he found it the last (and only other) time this happened, at least 2 years ago.  In the driveway of a friend who lives on the corner, a very short block away from our house.  In the middle of their driveway. This is the way I see it:  That very short walk from my door to her driveway is the amount of time that I am capable of surviving without my iPhone in my hand.  That’s how much time I have in me to breathe in the outdoor air and take in my surroundings without other distractions.  But once I get to that driveway — which is probably less than 100 yards from my house – enough.  I have to check my email.  Or, like this morning, I have to let Florence belt it out in my ears.

I don’t feel like I’m doing well, emotionally.  Last night, I watched a lot of t.v. to keep my mind off of what feels like impending doom (thanks to Attorney at Large for accurately capturing the feeling).  I watched How I Met Your Mother with the family (and probably laughed too much at the pot references), then Terra Nova with the family, then American Horror with Lemon.  (Mouse can’t handle it, and it was her bed time anyway, and WD doesn’t like it).

Without giving anything away about the story line, there was a scene where a gunman worked through a room shooting people.  The people in the far part of the room knew it was happening, and knew they were next.  And I honestly thought, “that’s exactly how I feel right now.”

My chest is tight, my heart is beating too fast, I’m often having to stop and catch my breath.  I have no appetite.  On my way home last night, I felt a full-on melt down coming.  I was concerned about how I would come across to the girls, as they (of course) know nothing about my situation right now.  Fortunately, walking into the house has a calming affect of its own.  I have a good house, and a good family, and things just quickly feel safer.  (Except when watching American Horror Story.)

WD and I were talking about it, and I was saying that I just don’t know why I’m having this reaction.  Because I do truly feel things will be fine, eventually.  I think if this happens, it will be okay.  I will find something new.  But this not knowing what will happen, the idea of walking into a conference room to a conversation that leads to the loss of my job – it’s horrific.  It feels absolutely terrible, and I hate it.

I don’t know how I managed to sleep last night, but I did.  I got a good night sleep.  Today I have to find ways to focus on my work, because I do have a good bit of it.  But all I can do is sit here feeling like I’m having seizures, and it makes it hard to focus and get things done.

29.5 hours to go.

Thank you, Florence, for helping me through.


*  It is nice to have a new bag.  First of all, I’m addicted to bags.  Small bags, big bags, re-usable instead of grocery bags, tote bags, beach bags, purses — I love them all.  Second of all, the bag that I’ve been using for at least a year now (it is very cool) had an … accident.  Last weekend, after the play that I saw at the high school, Mouse and a friend of hers went back to our house while WD and I went out for a beer with friends.  Soon after we sat down and tucked into our beer (it was a one-beer night), the phone rang.  Lemon was calling to say Mouse’s friend wasn’t feeling well.  Well, more than not feeling well.  She was vomiting.  On my bag.  “Don’t worry mom, we cleaned it up.”  Hmpf.  Follow up clean up was definitely required, and the work papers inside my bag didn’t respond as well to a sponge and a wipe down.  The bag is clean now, but it’s a bit tainted.  At least for now.


  1. Thinking of you, and waiting with bated breath to hear.

  2. Good luck tomorrow, though my gut tells me you’ll be fine.

  3. Here’s to you, regardless of what happens tomorrow. Positive thoughts coming your way.

  4. Good thoughts your way today. But to get your mind off of it, here’s an unrelated comment. I totally hear you on the bags. With each move, I get rid of an insane amount of bags but I still have a zillion laying around. You can never have too many, even when you have too many.

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