A Case of the Sads

a case of the sads...

 

I have one.

I do.

I hate that.

 

There I am, minding my own business. Doing what I do, and one hateful word from one person who shouldn't matter, and I'm mired in a pea soup fog of sad.

It's the kind that settles in, heavy, in your toes and curls up around the muscles in your calves and quads and starts to ache. It runs rings around the pit of your stomach, never quite settling, like a good case of dread would; but just sort of making you queasy and unsure of your worth... Clouding your ability to separate the love from the liars. And some days? Some days it's impossible to shake loose. Sometimes you just need to wallow in it and get it out of your system.

 

And it happens, sometimes, even in the midst of lovely things. It springs up at you at two of the A.M. while curled up against another person. It swoops low and attacks while building spreadsheets at work. It sneaks into the meat of emails without your meaning to include it. It makes you tired but not sleepy. Wanting but never quite satisfied. Lethargic.

 

Three days from now hopefully, I'll look back and think "duh. PMS" But when I'm smack dab in the middle of it?

It's just the sads.