I'd sure hate to breakdown here


So it's been a week since my mental breakdown. :) No, I didn't end up in a padded room or in a straight jacket (might have needed it...maybe I should have...). But I came just about a hair away from losing my marbles.


I have not discussed a particular personal topic here on the blog but because it helps set the scene for my "mental health crisis", here ya go.....we're going on years of infertility and I'm starting to get good and tired of the treatments. And lately, with the fertility treatment schedule, working full time, finishing my Masters, taking care of the farm and the animals and their needs, miscellaneous side ventures, etc etc etc...I've been a little more "challenged" shall we say.



Our newest infertility plan calls for injectable medications that have to be overnighted from some specialty pharmacy in New Jersey. They have to be signed for and refrigerated so they deliver them to my workplace. And of course, they are not covered by insurance and cost a lotta lotta lotta money.


This is so fun.


It all sure makes for a good story now though.


This day was ordinary but one of those days when Murphy's Law permeates every stinking thing you do. What can go wrong, does go wrong. And did go wrong.


Except I did get my medication delivered to work promptly and tucked away in the refrigerator, ready for my evening appointment.


The work day was not bad other than the fact that my face was covered in hives (yeah I don't know why) and then I tried to cover it with make up. That's always a good look.


The real joyride started after I left work. I get out at 3:00 and had to head home to take care of the horses and dogs (and ducks and cats) before my doctor's appointment at 4:45. Then return to pick up Hank for obedience class. No problem.


I let the dogs out and headed to the barn, as usual. The dogs (of course not princess Brie) have been increasing their curiosity lately and venturing off of the farm so we've had to keep a closer eye on them when they are outside. And I was doing that. I would check on them every 5 minutes or so. The last stretch of things I had to finish at the barn took maybe 10 minutes and the dogs were right outside.


As I headed toward the house I didn't see the dogs so I start calling for them... and nothing. So I call and call and call for about 15 minutes more. Nothing. Drive all around the farm and fields. Nothing. After about a 1/2 hour of more wasted time it's now about 4:15 when I get in the house. No dogs. But I do have a text from our friend who lives at least a mile away. "Hank and Dugger are here."

WHAT IN THE ACTUAL F***!?


He says they followed his electrician's truck from the church that neighbors our farm all the way to his farm!!! Thank God he knew them. So now with 30 mins to pick up the dogs, shower, and get to my doctor......I was getting frazzled.


But I somehow managed to get it all done and only a minute late with medication in tow.

The appointment went well and the doctor opened my new med to show me how to use it.


"Where is the vial that came with it?" He asked.


Me: blank stare. Blink....blink, blink....


"This is just the pen and needles. It should have come with a separate package with the actual medication."


I explained that I had thrown everything out at work and that the only other thing in the box was unlabeled foam packing material that I thought was just that.


He assured me if I couldn't obtain the medication from the trash....something about insurance covering it and it'll be okay...I don't know, I was busy pretending that my brain wasn't melting and about to pour out of my ears and that I wasn't about to burst into tears and that I didn't just throw away something that could cover my airfare to Paris (nonstop even).


Because he's so kind, my doctor hugged me and said if I don't find it they'll have another one overnighted and to call him in the morning.


I burst out the door (somehow remembering to put on my pants) and drove, bawling, to work. It was now after 5:00 pm. No one was there.


I let myself into the building and into my office and immediately checked the trash can. Empty. I knew they emptied them as soon as I left for the day.

I ran around looking for the night custodian, anyone really, and finally found a young man jamming out to his headphones. He assured this crazy girl that all the trash from the day was still in the dumpster and hadn't been taken away but he couldn't let me look through it without his supervisor's permission. Thankfully, he had his phone number and I called, several times without answer.

Just as I was leaving a final message, he answered.


He insisted on coming in and would not allow me to dig through the trash.


After having just left 45 minutes before, my knight in shining armor turned around without a care and drove right back in from about 20 minutes away. He dug around, spotted the bag, pulled it from the dumpster, opened it, and I jumped right in pulling all of the sick kids trash out from on top of my package. Inside that FedEx box was a little silver, unlabeled package. It had to be it. The custodian tore it open for me and there was my $$$ medication.


Again, I broke down in tears, lunging a hug in the custodian's direction. Thanking him deeply and feeling completely overwhelmed with emotion. It was like a little miracle.


While waiting for the custodian to arrive, I had called my mom and a friend who knows my journey in order to keep me from imploding. I called them back with the good news.


I felt like a balloon that had just been pricked with a pin (minus the fart noises).

Such a release, such utter relief.


Aside from missing Hank's class that night (I just could not pull it together) and not meeting my goal to refrain from drinking a glass of wine with dinner (not the night to start that)...the night improved.


I realized far too late how much of my mascara my tears had transferred onto my cheeks. Even my husband didn't mention it, "I thought you knew..."


But I woke up this morning feeling like myself again, thankfully. All is well.


The overly humble custodian refused my gift certificate to a local restaurant and said he couldn't accept it but my thank you card meant a lot to him. He absolutely went above and beyond to help me out. He saved the day and my sanity. He is my angel!



It's difficult when you're in a moment of pure panic to gain perspective on the situation. I probably had a legitimate anxiety attack because it sure felt like a heart attack. As my friend told me, I needed that tipping point to trigger a release. I couldn't sustain the stress level. It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day but it ended up being sort of amazing.

And today, it really doesn't seem so bad.


If you're struggling with something and can't see the light, try, try really hard to tell your melted brain that it is there.

Even if you don't see a speck of it.

The light is there.

Keep pulling or pushing yourself a little further, just a little more struggle through the terrible, horrible mess.

You'll see it. It is there.

Perhaps it won't be the light you expected, but it's light.


And you'll feel like a pricked balloon. With or without the fart noises. Your choice. Maybe you need the laugh so opt for the fart-effect.



"Only the soul who ventilates the world with tenderness has any chance of changing the world." - Father Gregory Boyles

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