My husband and I were in a grocery store, in Australia, and I wanted to make banana bread the way my Mom does. Mom uses Crisco (the lard kind, in a can, not the oil.)
By the third grocery store, I kind of groked that there’s no Crisco to be had in Australia. I was a bit stressy in general over other things, I must have been because otherwise there’s no excuse for the SCREAMING MASSIVE TANTRUM I had in the middle of the IGA…
…and I said things like, “I hate this fucking third world country” and “Why did I ever move here” and “How the FUCK am I supposed to cook ANYTHING EVER AGAIN?”
…and my poor husband stood there like a stunned mullet as I insulted his country, and made reference to the fact that I should never have moved here - you know, to marry him. (He’s a bit sensitive, as I basically left everything I had and everybody I loved to move here.)
Yeah, that was a great shining moment for me. I still feel like an amazing bitch just thinking about it…
From another thread (a few things have been added for this post):
A while ago, I made pasta to eat in front of a movie. I set it down on the coffee table, then went to get a drink. Suddenly, I heard the clattering of my bowl and silverware. I raced to the family room only to find that my cat had knocked the entire bowl face down onto the carpet. I flew into an absolute rage. Screaming, crying, throwing things, you name it. I had to finish my tantrum (which lasted about ten minutes or so) before I could even begin to clean it up, I was shaking and crying so hard. I know I should’ve put the cat in the basement, or something, but goddamn it, it had taken me nearly half an hour to make that pasta, and I was starving. And since it was so late in the afternoon (3 PM), I didn’t feel like I could just remake it, because we were going to have dinner in just a few hours.
Still, though, I’m not entirely sure where that meltdown came from. Seemed a bit much for a bowl of spilled pasta.
I’m sure I’ve had stupider meltdowns, but the most recent one was fun. Like overlyverbose, I’m someone who needs a little alone time - just a few minutes at the beginning of the day or after work to unwind, relax, and just be alone. In the run-up to my meltdown, it seemed like everyone in the house conspired to prevent my being by myself - the 9- and 12-year-olds always had something to tell me or ask me; my husband just wanted to visit; even the dog would nose his way into the bathroom if the door wasn’t latched. Or my mom would drop by. Or the phone would ring. Or whatever.
By the time I reached my breaking point, I was about 430 weeks pregnant. I had been feeling unwell for about 430 weeks - killer reflux for the entire pregnancy - and hadn’t slept well for about 430 weeks. My husband had knee surgery and was out of work (and AT HOME, UNDERFOOT) for a couple of weeks.
So, one evening after dinner, I escaped onto the front porch (where I had piled books into the second chair, so that no one could use that while “keeping me company.”) And my husband had the gall, the unmitigated nerve…
… to remind me to call my mother back.
I’m not proud of my reaction. I had a book-throwing, foot-stomping, cussing, crying hissy fit. In the front yard. In front of God and everybody. It was not my finest moment.
(And yesterday, I learned that my husband has to have surgery on his other knee on May 11. So he’s gonna be home another two weeks, at least. And, in addition to everything/everyone else, I’ll be dealing with a 5-week-old infant who wants her mommy all the time. I foresee another fit in my future…)
Is that one of the two huge nephews you mentioned in the thread about assumptions?
I’ve got it’s-not-MS (MS-like symptoms, but the brain scan shows no damage), triggered by termal shocks and by negative emotional stress (i.e., by things like coming from 40C outdoors into 18C indoors, and by stupidity). I’ve also got very mild claustrophobia and touch-o-phobia: when I’m stressed I need extra space, not hugs. The first symptom I get when I’m having an attack of not-MS is dizziness; next come visual and language comprehension, where individual objects make sense but the relationships between them just don’t seem to want to come into being (ever had one of those times when “the words are English, but I have no idea what the sentence means”? like that, both for language and for visual information).
Two years ago, I was part of a team of Spaniards working in Scotland. We had this big meeting, part of a series where we had to explain the program we were going to implement. Take into account that at this point
the program was being written
there was no “on paper” design for it; the closest thing there was to a design existed only in the head of one crazy woman and was still very incomplete
that woman had not been among the people who had explained the design to us; the explanations we had were piece meal and nobody knew how the different pieces were supposed to match
what we had seen when poking the existing program did not match the explanations and changed from day to day
So there we are, having to sell this thing that as far as we know should be called “a cloud of fart” rather than “a piece of shit”, given that it doesn’t merely float in the toilet bowl, but raise above it. And we have to do it in a language that’s our second or third, and to people who are told they have to do things the new owner’s way even if it happens to be illegal, and our local manager is a control freak who has said things like “I want to be a mother to you!” (I was not the only team member horrified by the concept).
And I get an attack of non-MS. By the time the meeting started, I was just starting on the language difficulties. When this happens, I speak extra slow and extra careful, so my parts of the meeting actually go without a hitch; nobody notices a thing. Another coworker takes notes; after the meeting, and since English is her third language, she asks me to look them over. Her laptop is hooked up so that the information is displayed, not in its own screen, but in the big projection.
Now, I need to review the notes while I still remember what the hell was said, so it has to be done as soon as possible. I know that if I let my brain change subjects for even one minute, I won’t be able to retrieve the information. I’m trying to decipher the Spanglish-with-Basque-grammar mess in front of me (while my brain’s language center is trying to take a flight to a different planet), when Sheboss walks so close that our clothes are touching and asks something. I say “one minute”. She walks between the projection (the text I’m reviewing) and me and grabs my arm, repeating her question.
I totally freaked out. And when I tried to get away from Sheboss, she’d come after me trying to hug me, which led to me freaking out even further. The sad part is, I’m not sure whether I regret more freaking out in front of all those people, or not having fed Sheboss the laptop… my favorite boss, she’s not.
I had a trip to the east coast, and needed to get home to Chicago to see my family. I was really looking forward to getting home in time for the holidays, but the plane had to be grounded due to bad weather. There was this guy that I met on the plane, and the two of us decided we’d try to get to Chicago together. However he kept getting on my nerves, and eventually I completely blew up on him when we were in hotel room on our way back home.
After ranting back and forth for a few minutes, he lectured me about being a decent person, and I felt pretty guilty afterwards. We eventually ended up celebrating the holidays together. I think hes dead now, this was a while ago.
Age 19 travelling around Africa with my best mate. After several weeks of living in each other’s pockets the tension finally broke when he moved a pair of my socks by 2in that I’d hung up on a line to dry in the sun.
Cue howls of outrage and me stomping off in a proper huff.
It was the day of my wedding and I was understandably, a little jittery.
I had asked my maid of honor Kelly to do me a favor and just not tell me what time it is - that she could just tell me what I needed to do next, but I didn’t want to know what time it was so that I wouldn’t start stressing about things. And Kelly was great - just saying “okay - time to leave for the church” or “okay, time to start doing your hair,” etc. So I was pretty well insulated from everything.
So I’m over in the corner at a table, kind of facing the wall, so that Kelly can put on my makeup while the other Kelly can work on my hair. My future MIL, SIL, and niece come in to the dressing area to say hello - and I say hi. I wave my hand in the general direction, but obviously I have my eyes closed for the makeup and have my back to the group so I can’t turn and say hi at the moment.
My SIL, who is a very intense person, comes up right by where I am and says hello again. I open my eyes - and her face is literally inches from my face which naturally makes me jump and even make a small scream in surprise. I quickly close my eyes again and say “I’m sorry - I just need a little space.”
I thought I said it quietly, but within seconds, the entire room is empty except for my MoH and myself. Evidently, when I freak out, it really freaks people out.
A couple of years back, I was having a stressful day. I’m certain I was PMSing, and I get irrational and weird when that happens (thank Og no more PMS!) I was also dealing with severe depression and anxiety.
Anyway, it was my turn to go grocery shopping, and I haaaaaate grocery shopping with the fury of a thousand burning suns.
Me: Sr. Olives, will you go with me to the grocery store? Sr. Olives: I’d really rather not. Me: Storms away, slams bedroom door, throws clothes around, and then collapses sobbing on the floor. Sr. Olives: tentatively approaching Um. Okay. If it means that much to you…
I don’t know why, for the life of me, but it did.
Of course, that doesn’t quite top the mutual meltdown we had about whether or not Green Day’s American Idiot album was a commentary on the Bush Administration. Now keep in mind, my husband and I have very similar political views–this was not an argument about politics. It was an argument about Green Day. We ended up pulling the car over in an abandoned parking lot, and I swear I almost bailed and walked home.
Feel free to PM me if you need to rant. I had a screaming fit one day a few weeks after my daughter was born when I started to feel so hunted I couldn’t stand it anymore. It was like waves and waves of people were coming after me even though it was just my husband and son in the house, talking incessantly when all I wanted to do was get the baby to sleep and put her down. I actually tried to hide from my son at one point, but of course he found me just as she was drifting off and practically shrieked, “Mommy, I found you!” Apparently he thought we were playing hide and seek. It wasn’t his fault, so I managed not to scream at him, but quietly handed the baby to my husband, walked into the bedroom and closed the door, locked it, then screamed into a pillow until my throat was raw. The whole time my son was pounding on the door demanding to be let in, the baby was crying inconsolably and when I came out, of course I had to answer questions about why I’d done what I’d just done (apparently a pillow doesn’t mute screams as well as I thought it did).
I think I remember that post–you posted it in response to my meltdown when my cats knocked my pizza off the counter, upside down, after I’d been waiting a long time for it to be delivered and I was starving. I just about lost it there, too. Fortunately my spouse was kind enough to order another pizza, deal with getting it home, and present me with half without my having to do anything more than sit in my chair and try not to pull my hair out.
I’m normally a pretty mellow person. I don’t really get in arguments with people, I can’t stay mad, I don’t like drama. I don’t really PMS either. But one day I just totally lost it.
I was living with my sister at the time, and was pretty stressed because her new puppy was destroying everything. She wasn’t doing all that much about it and I was doing nearly all the dog care. The puppy was just a lot of problems at that age – chewing up anything in sight (DVDs, laundry hampers, anything with wires), peeing everywhere, howling in the early morning, howling if you left her outside for a moment… just unmanageable. She’d recently destroyed my beloved Alpha Centauri game. On top of that, my sister was between boyfriends which was always really hard to manage - she’d come home and cry at random times, and you’d have to reassure her that no, she wasn’t an ugly troll who no man would have, etc. etc. Just a trying time in general, but I didn’t feel like it was really ‘bothering’ me that deeply.
Anyway, she had chewed up my mic that I used for online gaming. I just recieved a new mic and headset in the mail that day so I could finally talk again. I set it up, and left it on my desk for literally about a minute. When I returned, I found she had gone behind the computer and pulled it out of the port, and then destroyed it.
I just totally lost it. Completely flipped out. Yelling, crying. Much wailing of the “This is why I can’t have nice things!” variety. I honestly don’t know how I did it; even in hindsight it seems utterly unlike me, and it’s never happened since (or before, since I was a teenager at least). I’m guessing sleep deprivation, frustration, stress and maybe hormones. My sister was really alarmed. It took me like a half hour to compose myself.
Don’t forget when you woke up in the hotel room and said something about your hand being between two pillows, and he said, “Those aren’t pillows!” Oh wait, that was Planes, Trains, and Automobiles.
When I was 20, the night I broke up with my girlfriend of two years my friends got me incredibly drunk. As in, staying up until 5:00 in the morning drinking, trying to wash my troubles out of my mind. Needless to say, the next day I had one of the worst hangovers of my life. For many hours, the thought of food made me queasy, but by the time evening rolled around I started to feel somewhat hungry. So we went to Burger King.
Ever had one of those hangovers? The thought of food makes you sick, but then you smell something, and suddenly you’re hungrier than you’ve ever been in your life? Your body is suddenly screaming for nourishment? I placed my order, and was standing at the counter in wide-eyed anticipation as my meal was being assembled on the plastic tray. The last item was placed, and the counter person was just about to pick up the tray, when the manager walks by, scoops my burger off the tray, and puts it in a bag intended for the drive-through.
I vaguely recall the clerk saying something about that being my burger, and the manager responding that the drive-through was getting backed up. I saw red, and then completely fucking lost it. All of my emotions about the break-up, that I had so carefully tamped down with alcohol, came roaring out, and I took it all out on this poor Burger King manager. I can’t remember anything I said, I just remember going off. My friends dragged me away from the counter into the dining room, all the while apologizing to the manager, saying I’d had a rough night. They brought me my food, and I instantly forgot all about that little altercation.
I would have done a melt down at that, you just don’t do that. That may have been a custom order burger, and not what the person at the drive through ordered.
My worst came this past Sunday. First, know I had been awake since 7am Saturday morning. See the nifty “Overheard in the ER” thread for more info. Anyways, when TheKid was going under, she asked that I come home, grab some clean clothes and her iPod. I had to rush, as her surgery was to be less than an hour, and I wanted to clean up, grab a bite to eat, breathe for a minute. I arrived back at the waiting room the same time she was coming out of the ER. I waitied for her to re-surface from anesthesia by curling up in a chair with her bag of stuff.
Finally, around 945 they let me in to see her. I’m going through her bag, pulling out her stuff… and I cannot find her iPod anywhere. Her bought-with-her-own-money 160GB monster. I lost it. I stood there, holding her headphones in my hand, sobbing that I must have lost her iPooed…iPooled…iMusic thingy.
She groggily asked me to go home and get some sleep. I have no idea how I managed to drive home, but I did, sobbing uncontrollably the entire way.
Then I continued to sob, keen, bitch at myself for being so dumb while tearing apart the house looking for it. Finally, I fell asleep on the living room floor.
My sister found it - it somehow became lodged in one of her moccasins that I packed for her.
Speaking of my sister… She threw a mother of a hissy that we will never let her live down. We were all at the cabin for “Quality Family Time” (meaning, getting on each others nerves for days). One night it was too windy to start the grill, so Mom made her favorite go to dinner. Hamburger Helper. Sis sits down at the table, sees it’s Hamburger Helper, flips her plate off the table, knocks her chair over, and storms out, yelling “I’m never eating that shit!” She left the cabin in a fury. The rest of us just sat there, stunned.
After an hour or so she came back. She didn’t apologize to Mom, never explained why she chose that moment to lose her shit, nothing.
So we now buy her a box of Hamburger Helper every Christmas.
