Exhausted

Sunday was not an aberration.  It wasn't as much about Whoopis as I thought.  I can't stop crying.  It's horrible, embarrassing, shameful, confusing.  I cry when good things happen.  I cry when vaguely annoying things happen.  I cry when I look at P2 because he doesn't want me to snuggle him, and I so miss the Orange Lover and how he snuggled me when I cried, so I am crying because I can't cry while snuggling an orange cat.  I struggle not to cry during a staff meeting, and did cry during a training class (oh, how terrible these allergies are!). 

Fink-Nottle asked me if achieving an orgasm in less than 30 seconds is worth all this.  I can't answer that.  The tears have only been here since Sunday, and I have a mile long steak of self-punishment within me.  I have to wait this out a bit longer, see if my body can level off, and live without prescription intervention.  This is harder than I ever thought it would be, but I'm not ready to give up.  I came home and cried on the couch.  Sat here and cried while The Boy got ready for work.  I cried as he puttered around gathering up this and that.  I cried as he left, and I cried as I emailed and texted my friends to let them know that I need them for no other reason than that I am an emotional mess for no good reason beside having a serious chemical imbalance at the moment.

Now I'm going to take out the trash and recycling, and hope that I won't be brought to tears on the front lawn.

Here's a reason not to cry:

Other reasons:

1. Rollerskating with my ladies
2. Monday night phone call with Frijole
3. Wednesday Skype with Meggles (or Sunday)
4. All my boys