Mental Health

Hotel, Star Trek, Puke — Oh My

IMG_2930.JPGRemember how I got all empowered by my own selfishness and self preservation last week? I proclaimed my lack of fucks to give. I reclaimed my rope! I cleaned and organized and made sense of the chaos.

I still wasn’t satisfied. I still felt my skin buzzing and knew that I had to get some sleep. I walked through Kroger truly scared that I might pass out as I leaned into one of the freezers. Shoppers would find my cold body in among the chicken nuggets and fish sticks. Not quite the type of self-preservation I was looking for.

Slowly my vague plan to get a hotel room to myself “sometime soon” morphed into a deep, deep need to do it then. Right then. So on Saturday, at 6pm, I informed Zach that I was getting a hotel. He… accepted that fact with trepidation but no argument. It was clear that I was on the edge of falling apart. My best friend booked the room for me while I packed. It’s amazing how fast you can pack for one person. By 6:30 I was out the door.

First order of business was ordering a sandwich and watching TV. Spoiler alert: Captain Picard lived. After a visit to the hot tub I came back upstairs and relished the quiet. Then I took an Ativan and went to sleep.

I slept for seven straight hours. When I woke up I thought my left boob might explode, so I pumped and then went back to sleep for another two. I woke up feeling amazing. I went Joey Tribbiani on the breakfast buffet.

Suddenly I was hit with overwhelming exhaustion. It made my Kroger trip seem exhilarating. This was bone tired, cannot function, ohmygod please don’t make me check out of this room right now tired. And my stomach hurt. I figured I had eaten too much at the buffet. Then I decided that my body wasn’t used to so much sleep.

FullSizeRenderBy the time I got home I was feeling worse. Luckily Rowan was ready and willing to take a three-hour nap with me. Surely I would feel better once I woke up. Right?!

Wrong. About an hour later I made a mad dash to the bathroom to puke up bacon and eggs. You guys, I was blowing bacon out of my sinuses for the next hour. It was disgusting. Those of you who have been around for a few months will remember the last time I left my husband alone with the kids late into the night we were all hit with a stomach bug. I’m beginning to think that Zach is poisoning me to slowly train me to never ever leave him alone with the children overnight again.

Well played.

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Rhiannon Giles

Rhiannon Giles is a freelance writer from Durham, North Carolina. She interweaves poignancy and humor to cover topics ranging from prematurity to parenting and mental health. Her work has been featured on sites such as The New York Times, Washington Post, Parents, Scary Mommy, McSweeney's, and HuffPost. You can find her being consistently inconsistent on her blog, Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram.

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