So this last week has been kind of ... interesting .... not just for me, but for those close to me - who not only wished they weren't, but wished they'd never even met me.I had a little surgical procedure last Tuesday (click here for the ghoulish) and so had DH at home all week, theoretically to look after me. He did pretty well, considering that I am perimenopausal, was stressed, seriously unhappy with my weight, and generally losing the plot big style: I currently weep at the drop of a Save the Tiger/polar bear/snow leopard/dog advert, and have to leave the room if the NSPCC advert comes on. As in, I wondered whether I need 'professional help'. But the sharp knives were hidden, and I evened out in the end. For the time being, anyway. It astounds and amazes me that knowing the cause (hormones) does not enable any emotional control whatsoever.
So DH has escaped to work, breathing a sigh of relief that he survived, and his role as psychiatric minder has been taken by my sister, Auntie Fashion, for the remainder of my 2 week recuperation period. We are making a start on my father's wedding present, amongst other things like coffee, lunch and shopping.
Auntie Fashion is walking Mini Diva up the hill to school this week, and I am allowed to walk Destructo Boy to school across the road: today was his first day in Big School, and I just managed to hang on by the skin of my teeth to some semblance of adult decorum and not embarrass him by sobbing uncontrollably in the playground.
I shall be doing some research into prescription drugs, as I simply cannot handle all this Emotion; it's alien to me, and I don't know what to do with it.
