And That’s When I Totally Lost It

This is an actual photo of me that was taken when I went bazerk earlier this week.

When my (perceived) sense of control slips out of my grasp, I become an erratic and volatile wild animal. The smallest minor nothings explode into monstrous threats under the massive magnifying glass of my emotional frenzy. A questionable tone, another task added to the neverending must do list, sporks – virtually anything that isn’t synonymous with “nothing” may viewed as an  aggressive attack on my sanity. However it never begins that way.  I don’t expect it or plan it.  Nevertheless some Wednesdays don’t care about your plans.

Although I was tired, my day began uneventfully. I dropped my young daughter at daycare and rushed back home to tackle the mountain of work that comes with quarter end. A few minutes into the professional pile, my older daughter entered my office to let me know that there was a swarm of bugs on a plant our home.

I’m not going to feign indifference. Insects are not my favorite, but in most cases, I can live and let live. Outside. Inside is more like Thunderdome. Two bugs come in. None come out. I just can’t have that inside. And there’s no way at all I will be residing with a swarm of them. Never ever ever.

That was bad.  And while seeing that you have many many bugs is way bad, it doesn’t hold a candle to the realization that holy #&@! I think that those are termites.

That was REALLY bad.  My panic attack began, and I hyperventilated my way through a desperate phone call where I begged my pest control company to come out that same day.  Yes, all good – 2-4pm window. Ok. Better. Breathing going back to normal.  Someone would fix this.  And then my phone buzzed.  House showing request at 2pm – a couple of hours later.

Bad wasn’t covering the badness anymore. Nothing says “This is the house for you!” quite like a termite inspector reviewing a potential infestation right when a buyer walks the home.  Keep in mind, we hadn’t had a showing request for over a month.  Of all the times and days, it would have to be right then.

I called the company to have them move the pest control appointment to the next day, the hand of the clock swung wildly around as the minutes flew by, and we tried to clean to show-ready status. Having OCD and getting your house show-ready is only great on picture day and day 1.  After that, it just makes every other showing feel like you’re never enough. But I can’t stop trying.

We were still racing around trying to get the house ready when the doorbell rang. Surely they wouldn’t be attempting to view the house early??  Nope. It was the pest control guy that was supposed to be rescheduled. Panic. Why was he there when I had cancelled and the buyers could appear at any moment?? As we were talking (and I was still trying to clean), the kids started hollering in the other room.

A frickin bird had flown into the window and had become lodged in the sofa cushions on the patio. Seriously bird? Clearly I wasn’t going to leave a hurt bird or fresh carcass on the patio. The kind pest control man and I went out to figure out what needed to be done. The poor little thing was lying between the pillows. I picked it up with a towel, and it fluttered off. At least one thing went right, so I felt slightly better. The minutes still ticked away.

I begged the pest control guy to please come back later as I involuntarily itched my head and arms for the millionth time at the knowledge that my home had bugs – bleh. He left as I looked up and saw a car in  front of our house. We were past time! Panic!

We couldn’t do anything else so we jumped in the car to leave. As I opened the garage, I found myself trapped by another car in the driveway. Are you kidding me universe?? The realtor came out with a look of sheer annoyance and moved her car moments later. We drove off and one of the kids said, “Oh no!  The dog dishes are still in the sink!” He might as well have said, “Oh no! Your ratty granny panties are hanging on the television!” I was mortified. I heard my other big kid snap at him, “Hush!  You’re going to make her go even crazier!” Sadly she wasn’t trying to be funny. Thankfully it did make me laugh. Panic subsided.

Ten minutes later the showing was over. Hours of cleaning. Minutes of not liking. The realtor later gave feedback that said that the prospective buyers would have bought the house had there not been dog dishes in the sink.

(No she didn’t.)

We went back home, and I started to work again. I wanted to post something on the blog but decided to change a couple of minor settings to improve the layout. Such good ideas…such poor execution. Kaboom – total website blow up. Curse you plugins!  Panic yet again. I hollered for my husband. This wasn’t a po’ lil’ ol’ me kind of move. He’s a professional tech nerd. My nerdiness is more generalized. However he isn’t a web tech nerd, so his frustration quickly escalated as my anxiety (and supposedly) my volume also went up. He then did something that never goes well for any man. He snapped and told me to calm down.

And that’s when I totally lost it.

Lost. It. Like multiple term mayor of Crazytown, USA lost it. Banging my desk. Hitting my computer. Stamping my feet up and down madly. Screaming for him to get out. I went totally bazerk.

The story ends with a major blowup conversation about anything and everything – 99% of which had nothing to do with that moment – and a website that is working again.  Thank you Chaitanya at WP support – you saved my site and probably my marriage!

I hate those moments. “Frustrating” doesn’t remotely encompass how I feel about them. It is a terrible helpless feeling to witness yourself spiralling out of control.  You know exactly what is going to happen if the stress continues to build, but life just keeps pushing. Do you remember Vesuvius and Pompeii?  It’s like that but with less ash (so far). I flip back to normal much faster than I flip into wild animal mode, but the explosions are unwieldy and incredibly destructive in the meantime.

Like the calm after the storm, it’s been quiet here since that point.  Although I wish I could stick with perpetually smooth waters, that isn’t the ocean I sail.

As a follow up note, they weren’t termites. You are going to think I’m making this up. The pest control team said that they were crazy ants.  Can you believe it?

No wonder they felt right at home.  🐞

Joanna

Other critter battles –  https://misifusa.wordpress.com/2017/07/29/ants-wasps-and-mice-oh-my/

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