I'm going to tell you a secret...
My self-worth is directly tied to my e-mail inbox.
This is sad, I know, but true. When I check my e-mail and see that I have new mail, even if it's "hOt v-iAgra 4u", I feel loved. I feel as though there are people out there who care about me and my erectile dysfunction. When, like today, I check not once, but twice, and there's nothing from no one, not even my on-line pharmacist friend, I sink into maybe not the "depths of despair", but perhaps the "depths of I-could-eat-a-bowl-of-ice-cream".
I know, I know, I need therapy...blah, blah, blah.
I'm going to tell you another secret...
I can handle other people's problems, but not my own.
Take, for instance, a few years back when my nephew had a seizure, and my sister's freaking out, running around the dining room table shrieking "I didn't give him his Motrin! I didn't give him his Motrin!" I, cool as a cucumber, dial 911 and take care of the situation (his fever had just spiked, and kids often have mild seizures when this happens. Who knew?). I take a cold, wet cloth and sponge him down until his fever recedes (my sister--this is sooo much funnier now--is still running around the table where I now have the boy and taking whole handfuls of water and splashing it on him. I love you, Heather.)
Yesterday, though, my dog has some health issues and I burst into my roommate's room at 7:30 a.m. bawling. Yes, bawling. Me, Sarah J. I-can't-cry-on-stage-because-I-can't-cry-in-real-life Storer. The girl who thought "The Notebook" was a comedy. The woman who couldn't stop laughing when her boss snapped one day and threatened to fire the entire staff. Then I'm freaking out because I'm torn about whether I should take him to the vet or go to work. So then I'm sobbing on the phone to Jen and she hears me freaking out and just tells me not to worry about it. Jai gets me calmed down and goes with me to the vet, where I'm nearly in tears as they give the Pip a shot (he was yelping, for crying out loud).
Turns out he's okay...just so happens that running full force into sliding glass doors doesn't always agree with small animals (don't say, "Wanna go outside?!?!" until after you open the door.) And HE'S the one that gets to take muscle relaxers. For a whole week. Meanwhile, this entire drama seems to trigger latent insecurities in me, and I'm nervous and jumpy the rest of the day, despite the manual labor I put in at work that leaves me exhausted. I couldn't sleep last night, and I woke up (at freaking SIX...in the MORNING) with an athsma attack and a headache today. Siggghhh...this has been a long week.
Good thing I have a pool. And a pack of Djarum Supers (much better than Black's, by the way). And Newcastle. And my dog's muscle relaxers.
Not that I've partaken of ALL of those vices today...