Alright. This is a funny and random topic. Road rage. We've all been there (RIGHT?! It's not just me???) Believe it or not, I can be a MAJOR road rager. Like, it's not pretty. Granted I'm not one to get out of my car or flip anyone off (ever!) or roll down the window to scream obscenities. Ok so maybe I'm not that bad! That's good to know. But it happens. Some of my most notable/embarrassing/pathetic quotes include, "GET A LIFE!", "I FREAKING HATE YOU!", and "MAKE IT HAPPEN, IDIOT!" Not to mention the fact that certain words that NEVER make it into my day-to-day conversations tend to make their way into the mix. Uh oh!
I'm not proud of it. And on the rare occasions when I think the people at whom my anger is targeted have seen me, I immediately feel terrible. Just awful. I've shared this with friends before and many responses are the same... "You seem pretty even-keel, I never would have thought!" or "I don't think I've ever seen you mad at someone. I bet it isn't as bad as you think." To you doubters I say: Ohhhhh bless your generous hearts. If only that were true. But you're right, I don't think I've ever made my anger too obvious to the drivers I temporarily loathe.
Here's the thing: Losing your head in a weak moment can really impact someone in a big, BIG way. Just like a simple smile can save the lives of people on the brink of life-threatening depression, a simple dirty look or expletive can leave a lasting, negative impression. Take for example what happened to me this evening: I had a bit of a rough day. Tough meeting with a volunteer, things just not quite going my way, blah blah blah. I'm over it. Nothing a little pumpkin brew and tomato basil soup from Metropolitan Market can't fix! But on my way home from Met Market, I passed a driver who was NOT my biggest fan. We were on opposite sides of a 4-way stop and he forgot to signal that he wanted to turn left in front of me until the last second, so I started to move at the same time he did and I guess accidentally cut him off. No harm done. I stopped, he went, and all was well. But not for him! SHEESH, you'd think I had totaled his car. As he turned to pass me, he very clearly, intentionally and distinctly yelled "B*TCH!!" and went on his not-so-merry way. Ouch. I realize this isn't a big deal, and I realize his opinion of me matters NOT AT ALL. But after a long tough day, when all I wanted was to get home to my cold beer and hot soup, this wasn't very fun.
I have heard a few stories of random acts of kindness lately, particularly in drive-thrus and coffee shops, and I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT THEM. What a novel idea! Share some kindness and love without expecting any credit or gestures in return. So the moral of the story is this: Every day we have choices. Jeans or capris? Heels or flats? Bagel or cereal? Hot or iced?
Next time I'm throwing a road rage hissy fit, I'm going to find the nearest drive-thru and buy a treat for a stranger. I really am! Because it's just as easy to make a day as it is to ruin one, and I think acts of kindness hold the power to make two days at once.
Hey y'all. I have a little somethin-somethin to share today. And rather than spending a chunk of your day reading another one of my too-wordy posts, I hope you'll spend 7-ish minutes watching this video. Because who among us couldn't use another tool to conquer the nasty, ugly, and inevitable BAD-ITUDES we all wear from time to time?? Trust me. This is good stuff.
(if you have a hard time getting the video above to load, then Click Here)
[DISCLAIMER FOR THE FELLAS: This post doesn't apply to you in a direct sort of way. But that doesn't mean it doesn't apply to you at all. So read on if you dare. Just don't say I didn't warn you. Because you might feel a little uncomfy. And for that I am very, sincerely, not-at-all sorry.]
Hey ladies.
It's me, Andie.
Duh.
I'm comin' to you live from my favorite Starbucks (when am I not?), sipping on this masterpiece...
... and getting ready to talk to you about something pretty serious. And not to be taken lightly. Because I think you can perhaps relate.
Do you find yourself struggling with...
... chronic fatigue?
... headaches?
... backaches?
... muscle tension?
... changes in appetite?
... loss of focus?
... lack of interest in usual activities?
... intense shift in mood?
... rapid change in weight?
... overall malaise?
... inexplicable sadness?
... nearly unbearable abdominal pain?
... observable psychosis?
Then visit your doctor couch ASAP, because you may be experiencing imminent death WOMANHOOD.
Or more specifically, your friend and mine, that unwelcome B!@#% Aunt Flow.
Never invited. Always imposing. The Queen of overstayed welcomes.
Yikes, yikes, yikes.
Why must we go there? You might ask. Well here's why: Because this is a blog about anxiety and reality and struggles and this is a real-life, anxiety-producing, monthly mega-struggle! That's why!!! What kind of a question is that anyway??? WHEW. Sorry. But you see, I have strong feelings about this. Because she-who-must-not-be-named (the uterus... call it what you want... Voldemort aka Slytherin aka Bellatrix aka Death Eater aka Horcrux aka WhoreCrux... too much on that last one?) puts us through a lot of misery. Every. Single. Month. And I know this whole process is sometimes taken as a joke or described as "gross" or just generally taboo to talk openly about, but I think that's stupid. Well I don't just THINK it's stupid. It IS stupid. Because we don't deserve to feel like a joke or gross or taboo. I didn't choose to be a female. It chose me. And I sure as H-E-double-tampons didn't choose to have a period. Because absolutely no woman in her right mind would. But here's the thing: Without these hellacious processes, absolutely none of us would exist. So I mean, you're welcome. Ok, ok, that's taking it a bit too far. I didn't invent it. But I think you know what I'm saying. I'm not a leper. I'm not gross. I'm not psychotic (though it's debatable... more on that in a sec). But every month, I feel as though I am. I feel sick. I feel sad. I feel zitty. I feel like I've gained 30lbs over night. I feel awful. Does this sound familiar, ladies? This ain't no joke!
Without fail, every single month - let me repeat... EVERY SINGLE MONTH - I feel like a crazy person. We've all been there. Guys too. Just feeling a little off. More irritable than usual. Perceiving everything as a big deal or worthy of a melt-down. For some people (like me) it happens when we haven't eaten recently enough. Hangry, as we've talked about before. But this is a different brand. Here's the usual timeline: One week before Aunt Flow comes a-knockin' - TIRED. MUSCLES HURT. WHY DO I FEEL LIKE I NEED A NAP EVERY HOUR?? A few days before - TEARS ON TEARS ON TEARS. God help me and anyone around me if something upsetting happens about 48ish hours before the eagle has landed. Things are gonna get teary. And why is everyone so annoying?? How dare that woman at the grocery store cut me off?! How dare my coworker ask me if I'm crabby today?! Why is that man driving 25 miles per hour on a busy arterial?! But more importantly, WHY DO I WANT TO KILL ALL OF THEM?! And then the anxiety sets in. "Oh my gosh I was so mean to that woman at the grocery store. What if she was really hurt by that face I gave her?" "My coworker was just joking and I totally bit her head off... she's going to hate me now!" "That poor man was just being cautious. Why did I wave my hands at him in obvious road rage? I feel terrible." Tears on tears on tears. Touching Hallmark commercial - tears. Nice email from a volunteer - tears. I AM CRAZY! And the most remarkable part of it is, when all of this madness sets in every month, I never EVER think, "Hey Andie, go easy on yourself. You know what's right around the corner... all of this is to be expected. Now go take a walk. A nap. A Xanax [kidding]." The point is, never underestimate the power of she-who-must-not-be-named. She means well. She's just doing her job. But the havoc she wreaks is enough to transform an ordinary woman into Cruella DeVil in no time flat. And it doesn't mean we're crazy. Or gross. Or over the cuckoo's nest. It just means we're healthy. That our bodies are functioning properly. That someday we might be able to bring new life into the world. Holy smokes, that's awesome. So next time you're a big mess of anxiety and tears and inexplicable sadness and feeling obese and disgusting and zitty, don't forget to check yourself before you wreck yourself (or your car/computer/someone around you) and think about whether Aunt Flow might be to blame.
Also, don't mess around with abnormalities. With any of your lady parts. Get regular exams, don't ignore strange symptoms, and remember you have nothing to be ashamed of. Ok, PSA over. Not to be confused with PMS. BA-DUM-CHHHHHHH!
And another thing: Speaking of PMS, here's a word to the wise. Nobody - and I mean nobody - is allowed to blame my moodiness/sensitivity/anger/emotions on PMS but ME. Asking a woman if she's PMSing is a first class ticket on the RAGE EXPRESS. For me anyway. I can't speak for anyone else. I'm just trying to help you avoid the wrath.
And finally, there's this:
Hilarious! Except don't order your period care packages from Hello Flo. Instead visit www.ThePeriodStore.com and order your monthly dose of sanity-savers from them! One of the founders is a dear friend of my dear friend Russanne, and their genius deserves your business! Your lady business... I'm on a roll!
And now I leave you with three simple words of advice: ThermaCare heat wraps. You can thank me later.
