I just had a regrettable moment with a sweet, sweet electrician. He worked on my hot water heater yesterday and stopped by this morning to pick up a tool he had left. He caught me at the exact moment where I was on the verge of tears. Seeing a kind face put me over the edge and I was crying like a baby. I.HATE.THAT! Hate making some poor person feel bad for me. Hate making them have a potentially sad day. Hate making someone feel awkward because they don’t know what to say or do. Hate it. I like to keep my grief private and cry when I want to. Basically I want to control it. And this evil, evil biotch we call grief is not easily controlled. 

What I have observed about myself, however, is that when I am well-rested, I am more in control. I’m still not a pillar of non-crying-perfection but I am much, much better. I asked myself this morning…why am I crying to a stranger? Am I hormonal? Am I hungry and having low blood sugar? Nope. I am tired. I procrastinated going to bed for two nights in a row and didn’t get enough sleep. I may have to take a nap and if I do, it is a-okay. 

I have a really hard time cutting myself a break. It feels weak and wimpy to go take a nap just because I didn’t get enough rest last night. My normal advice to myself would be “put on your big girl panties and SUCK IT UP.” I don’t think that applies here. Maybe my advice should be “put on your big girl panties and TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF.” I’ll try…easier said than done, though.