I had a spectacular meltdown last night. I was pretty hysterical actually, which scared the shit out me and, I'm sure, completely freaked out My poor, poor Beloved.
It's a long story that started with a late-night e-mail from a friend who has disappeared from my life since Thomas died, and ended with me sobbing my eyes out in bed. I wasn't crying about my MIA friend, I was crying about Thomas - about the raw pain I still feel, about the unfairness of losing him, about the helplessness of wanting him here so much and knowing he's gone forever. I was crying for me, for My Beloved and for our poor little lamb that we loved so much. That we love still.
I don't even remember everything I said while I sobbed into my pillow and into My Beloved's arms. I know there was some swearing, but I have a feeling most of it was probably incoherent and better left trapped in the fibers of the mattress.
Once I calmed down we quite rationally discussed what there might be in the basement that we could beat the living shit out of with hammers. The ping pong table flashed through my mind, but we already use that to bond and to blow off steam on a regular basis. It would be counter productive, not to mention stupid, to attack our live-in therapist.
I'm exhausted today. I slept fitfully after the tears finally stopped and I've been wandering around in a puffy-eyed, dizzy fog ever since I got up. I'm looking forward to a good night's sleep and a happier tomorrow.
The other day My Beloved said, in reference to another situation and someone else we know, that you're responsible for your own happiness. No one can give it you, buy it for you or force it on you. You have to find it yourself.
So tomorrow I'll see if I can't find it down the couch cushions. I've looked just about everywhere else.