I had a mini meltdown yesterday. Sometimes it seems the harder I try to take things in stride, the more overwhelmed I get.
I was running late for an important meeting. Thinking about a million other things while driving. Switching radio stations trying to find something to distract me.
I want to like John Legend, I really do. It’s just not happening.
His voice I like, the songs he sings, not so much. The current one stirs up anger for some reason.
It’s a toss up whether the original or club mix version is more triggering.
I see flashing lights behind me and I pulled over.
The police officer mention a number of things he could ticket me for.
He was visually scanning the inside of my car, then asked me “Is there any reason I should search your car? You’re not an IV drug user or anything, are you? You don’t have any needles or drug paraphernalia in there, do you? I have to ask.”
What?!? You have to ask? No one ever asked me that before!
I know I’m looking a little disheveled lately, but drug addict?
“Is your driving record good? I’m not going to find anything when I run your license, am I?”
“No! Yes! I mean, yes it’s good. No there’s nothing to find.”
As he walks back to his car, I look at myself in the mirror.
Okay, I could use some more sleep. And some highlights.
My blonde hair that turned to that nondescript shade that doesn’t warrant a name of its own, it’s just called dirty blonde; has now become mostly gray.
I should have put on a little make up.
I am looking old and weary and stressed, very stressed.
I should have left earlier, I should have gotten up on time.
WTF is wrong with me?
Tears start running down my cheeks. All the shit I was trying to forget was taking over.
He’s back, standing next to my car.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I always cry when I break the law.” (Why don’t police officers have a sense of humor?)
Then as per my usual, I start over sharing. Rapid fire. In one long run on sentence.
I said way more than he needed to know. I then mentioned something about not having the extra cash to pay tickets.
He began talking, faster than me, in a much less authoritative tone. Almost apologizing.
“I only gave you one, you have 30 days to pay..it’s a non moving violation so you’re not getting any points..you really need to get that license plate fixed..you know the date on your registration is expired…”
I frantically look for my receipt to show I did indeed pay the renewal fee, “I have it, I paid it, I just didn’t get the new one in the mail yet. I just moved. I didn’t change the address on everything yet.”
“It’s okay, I checked it in the computer it’s good..I just wanted to let you know you need to carry the current one..people forget..don’t worry..you can go..are you sure you’re okay to drive..you just having a bad day?”
“Yes, a bad day that just got worse. Thanks.” I added a wink and a thumbs up.
I’m such a jerk sometimes.
He thought I was abusing drugs, now he knows I’m just crazy and a little obnoxious.
I arrived only five minutes late, everyone else was five minutes later. So I felt less stressed about it.
I still looked stressed, or “haggard” as I was told. So I cried some more.
I know I’m not the only one who loses their mind publicly, right? I’d like to hear some of your straw-that-broke-the-camels-back moments. It will make me feel not so nuts.