So it happened. I am not really surprised, but I thought my first big meltdown after the move would be in February. You know...I would be snowed in, on my birthday, Stuart would not be able to get home from work because of the terrible weather, my power would go out, me and the pups would be huddled up in a corner by the fire (depending on whether or not I could even get a fire started in one of our two fireplaces), crying, and wishing for my old life in Nashville. Now, I was mentally prepared for THAT meltdown. I was simply planning on willing myself to be strong for that first time after the move that I felt alone, sad, and missed friends and family.
But it happened sooner. It is fitting that these were the photos I scheduled to share with you yesterday since the melting snow on the ground could serve as a metaphor for my emotions early, very early Monday morning. It all really started on Saturday when my little pup, Charlotte...Char for short, started throwing up. We assumed she was not feeling well because she had too much Thanksgiving. I mean...don't we all have moments over the holidays when we think we might be sick after stuffing our bodies full of goodies? Please tell me it is not just me.
We decide to call the emergency vet late Sunday night. I won't lie, they were not very concerned and made us feel a little silly for calling. After a very judgmental,"You can bring her in IF you REALLY think you NEED too (insert eye roll)," we all decided to try to get some sleep. While the boys (husband and big pup) slept like babies, me and sweet Char were up ALL night. Char was wide awake because she did not feel her best, and I was worried that she had some horrible condition after some late night research (never a good thing). Stuart gets up at 4:00 a.m. to travel Monday's, and at first we thought Char was feeling better. When she got sick about 30 minutes after Stuart left for the airport, I could not take it any more.
I bundled us up and headed out to our car, which is currently parked in our scary little rental garage. It is really the basement off of the garage that is scary, but I will save that story for another time. Have I mentioned that the light does not work in our garage unless you open the garage door? Sooo...if you don't want to get into the car in the pitch black, you have to open the garage door for a little light, which offers up a nice gust of ice cold wind in the face. Or have I mentioned that our garage is just big enough to squeeze a car into? Sooo...if you go overboard at dinner the night before you better suck it in if you have any plans of getting into the driver's seat, unless you have hope to open the trunk and crawl through the back. Well...I have mentioned it now.
So picture this...me, Monday morning, no sleep, depressed Stuart has headed off for another week of travel, vomiting puppy in arms, crammed between the scary garage wall and my car. I finally get myself and my pup all situated, and then...the car won't start. I mean...it just...would not start. So sitting there in the dark with my tired, sick, little pup, no Stuart in sight, and no one I know well enough yet to call and ask for a ride to the emergency vet at 5:30 a.m. on a Monday morning...I cried. It wasn't pretty. It was the meltdown I had been waiting for because it was that moment when I really missed so many friends and family members that were such a huge part of my support system in Nashville.
After a call to Stuart where there was some confusion between the phrase "My car is dead" and "Char is dead" (I blame the confusion on all of the crying), Stuart decided to turn around and come home. Have I mentioned lately that I love that man? About 5 minutes after the actual meltdown, I was totally embarrassed. I called Stuart to tell him to "go on," "I'll be fine," "I can handle this." He did not listen. We of course were able to get the car and Char all fixed up yesterday, and today I feel so silly about the meltdown.
I wondered if I should even share the little story with you? I mean, so often in the blog world we are putting our best foot forward, not our worst. Yesterday when I took time to reflect on all the need in our world and the daily heartache that can come up in peoples' lives, I was ashamed that I sobbed over a sick puppy and dead car battery. I try daily to remain thankful for all that God has blessed me with, but I would be lying to you all if I told you that some days "life" can get the best of me. Some days, my worst foot IS the one that steps forward, and I suppose all I can do is learn from it and let my best foot follow. At least having a meltdown on Monday really makes the rest of the week seem great. Anyone else out there who has had a meltdown lately? Or have any of you gotten really good at preventing the meltdowns? I am all ears...J
Top/Jeans {Local Honey}, Overlay {Forever 21}, Vest {Vintage}, Shoes {Vintage Target}, Necklace {DahliaLynn Vintage}, Clutch (Chanel)
