Knock Knock! Who's There? BAT-SHIT CRAZY LADY!! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!!!!

Dude... I totally had a menopausal meltdown last week. Like textbook, poster child, full-on Edith fucking Bunker, hydroelectric asshole, mental collapse.




yaaaaaaaaaay...

It was epic.

I went from zero to RAGE in five seconds flat, followed by despair, self loathing, tears, a brief period of rational behavior (imagine that), more rage, more self doubt, more tears, etc etc etc, yadda yadda yadda, rinse and oh-for-the-love-of-chocolate-please-STOP-REPEATING!!?!... culminating with me collapsed on the couch in a deflated heap of self repulsion.

More drama than the stage can handle.

All this ridiculousness was triggered by something so trivial and insignificant, I can't even pinpoint its origin. The worst part was I was cognizant of my crazy, but could do nothing to stop that freight train from jumping the rails of reasonable reaction.

Dude, let me tell you, it's no fun watching yourself go round the bend. This is the exact unhinged behavior for which I've been apologizing in advance to Geo over the last couple of years, fearing I would devolve into this type of preposterous mood swing. Meanwhile, I've been all proud of myself for not getting all Lizzie Borden on people's asses throughout these changeling years. Up until now, I've been freakishly calm, complacent, and levelheaded, as if I've been neutered. All the jagged emotional edges polished smooth.

Then out of nowhere...

BOOM!!

MIDLIFE CA-RAY-ZAAAAAAAAAY!!

Perhaps the most unsettling factor of this entire sordid affair was how quickly the angst and ire washed away. I swear I could literally feel the lunacy draining from my body, like True Blood's Lafayette expelling an unwanted demon.

The good news is I found that bat-shit crazy bitch who hijacked my psyche, gagged her, chained her up and locked her in a heavy duty footlocker stashed in the far corner of our attic.

Hooka, please! Stay the fuck OUT!