Yesterday it appeared when I realized that we had left behind a bag at the grocery store. It was a bag of the fancy organic shampoos & conditioners & tea tree oil wipes that I love which were HALF-OFF at the regular grocery store because people in Quincy like to wash their hair with chemicals that smell like teenage girl deodorant. I was psyched, cause I was out of conditioner, and the last time I bought shampoo & conditioner I spent more money that I felt was right. It's not that I don't believe in treating myself once in awhile, but I work in a bookstore. I am not made of money. And I spend more money on Kiki's prescription food that I do my own food, so sacrifices must be made, especially with the forthcoming baby.
I went to take a shower before bed last night (at approximately 8:15 pm - I stayed up late since I don't have to work today. Get wild!) and I remembered the conditioner. I went to find the bag. It was nowhere. Trever had put the groceries away the night before. He had no idea, didn't remember seeing it. He checked the car. Twice. It wasn't there. He had been playing video games with headphones on when I realized it was missing, which I think sent the rage into over drive. I was VERY UPSET. I don't want to waste our money. And I couldn't understand how we just lost it. We went through the self checkout. We put all the groceries in the back of the volvo. We just left an entire bag behind? HOW DID WE DO THAT? WHAT THE F U C K? Yup. The rage took over. I was trying to stay calm. Really, I was. In the middle of crying and getting upset, while Trever was looking in the car, I picked up a pair of scissors off the bed from an earlier mending project, and the two clementines that had been in my bag, left over from our morning trip to the movies, in order to clear off the bed so I could get in it. He walked back inside and the look on his face was that sort of why-are-you-upset-it's-not-really-a-big-deal-you-are-acting-like-a-crazy-lady-look which basically just sent me right over the edge. I don't remember what he said next, but I definitely threw a pair of scissors across the kitchen (not AT him, he was in the other room) and threw a clementine at the floor with such force that it exploded. Then I shut myself in the bathroom to cry.
HORMONES ARE SO FUN.
He went back to the store. We must have left the bag behind cause he went to the clearance bin and it was all back in there. I had bought three of the five containers of the tea tree oil wipes, and there they were, right next to the grapefruit & geranium shampoo. I texted him not to rebuy it, out of principle, but he insisted. I told him how I felt he was dismissive of my feelings and he apologized for that. Then I went to bed.
This morning I got up early to feed Kiki. My slipper got stuck on the something on the kitchen floor. A little while later I made coffee. Trever came in to get some and I asked him what spilled on the floor last night. He reminded me that it was the clementine I smashed. He didn't clean it up last night, was going to do it today, but I felt embarrassed and stupid so I cleaned it up right away.
The point of all of this rambling? A reminder to myself, I suppose. I don't need to freak out and throw scissors and smash fruit. I don't want to be that person. I have a very distinct memory of my mother slamming kitchen cabinet doors so hard that plates fell on the floor. If I need to vent or feel the rage, I can alway sit in the car with the windows rolled up and scream at the top of my lungs. Or I can watch an episode of SVU, that usually helps. Or those tricks my therapist taught me so long ago that I have shoved in a corner closet of my mind. I supposed I could also channel the rage into lyrics for future rap songs. I can still filthy rap if I have a baby, right?
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