One of Those Weeks: A.K.A. The Week From Hell

So this week was supposed to be like the best week of like my entire year…like seriously.  Ok maybe that’s an exaggeration.  But my parents were going away on their like 5^th vacation in 2 years without me, therefore I had the entire house to myself.  Peace, serenity, seclusion.  I could sleep whenever I wanted, be messy, eat whatever whenever, play music loud, do whatever the hell I wanted whenever  and wherever I wanted.  I had been looking forward to this week for months…seriously.

Then I got ragingly ill.  Like the sickest I’ve been in years.  I had to drive myself to the E.R. – to no avail.  Then had to go to another emergency medical center- to no avail.  While having to go to work with a smile on my face in the mist of wanting to collapse and die.  Whoever said mental pain is worse than physical pain is cleeeeeeearly mistaken.  When you’re experiencing this “mental pain” you’re speaking of, just stick a knife in your leg and you’ll immediately change your mind.  And omg never tell anyone you’re related to that you just went to the E.R. because you’ll wake up to 11 missed calls and proceed to be smothered via your iPhone for the next 48 hours.  And then if you shut off your phone out of annoyance and don’t answer they think you’re dead.

I couldn’t even sleep to ecsape the agony.  I’m someone who takes sleep very seriously, so when I’m getting under 4 hours and not being able to do anything about it- there’s a problem.  So I found a heating pad in a random closet to put on my stomach while I attempted to lay down for an hour or two- and I started to feel a serious pinching and start to smell some weird odor.  Oh ok that’s just the heating pad melting plastic, burning my skin, and about to set on fire.  Shit.  Never ask the world if you’re life can get any worse than it is right now- because it can and it will.

So I air out my room, seriously concerned I might die from carbon monoxide.  I Google "heating pad malfunction" and its looking like death from fumes isn’t a thing, so I feel a little bit better.  I exhaustedly decide to sleep in my parents king size bed, because my room smells like fire, and think jeez its like a hotel in here.  I need a new mattress and new sheets and a new ambiance.  Okay which side of the bed is going to be less gross? My mom’s side or my dad’s side?  Probably my mom’s side even though I’m not really a right side of the bed person.  I heard sleeping on the left side of your bed is sooooooo much better for your mental health.  But at this point who gives a shit about my mental health? I’m tired, I’m annoyed, and I can’t even believe this awfulness has lasted for such a long amount of consecutive days.

So after a week of not being able to function, eat, or sleep, I finally wake up to 80 degree weather, a few pounds lighter, eat as if it was my first meal in weeks (it pretty much was), and come to the conclusion that the world is a big bunch of complainers.  Oh excuse me, I'm so sorry your head hurts, or your tired because you had to wake up an hour earlier than usual, or your throat hurts just a little bit, or that the rain is putting a damper on your day.  When someone has a serious problem they don’t complain.  They suck it up and move on with life.

Moral:  After the rain comes some serious sunshine.  Appreciate it.