Blaaaaaarggghhh.

I have been so grumpy lately.  Everything annoys the crap out of me.

It started with boys talking politics nonstop on Wednesday night, which always makes me grumpy.  Then on Thursday morning my dad woke me up at the buttcrack of dawn because he had missed a box when the couriers came to pick up our shipment for our business.  He was under the impression that they were going to come that morning to pick it up, and he was leaving to deliver cookies right then, so someone had to be awake to give them the box.  I was going to go back to sleep after they came, but they didn’t end up coming until late afternoon.  I ate some dinner and once my tummy had some food in it, I could not keep my eyes open.  So I took a nap (I always have good intentions of taking 30 minute naps, and they always turn into 3 or 4 hour ordeals.  This one was no different), and while I was asleep, I had this lame, lame dream…

I dreamed that my dad and sister and I were at this musical instrument store in a mall (not the one that’s by us; just a generic mall).  My dad was buying something, but for some reason it wasn’t going to be ready for a long time, so I decided to go get some coffee.  My dad told the guy who worked there (who was, inexplicably, none other than New Boy) to go with me, I guess to make sure that I was safe or something.  The music store was on the upper level, and the coffee shop was right below it, so you could see it from the upper level, but to get to it you had to sort of wend your way through this handicap-accessible ramp slash obstacle course.  While climbing over something, I somehow slipped a little and lost my balance, so New Boy grabbed my hand to steady me.  And then didn’t let go.  We walked to the coffee shop hand-in-hand without further incident… I looked up and my family and some people from church were giving me that “Holding hands, huh?” sort of look and were smiling at me, and I had that sort of puffy, swell-y, happy feeling in my chest.  When we got to the counter, I noticed that this really pretty girl with long blond hair was in front of us in line, and as I noticed her, New Boy dropped my hand like it was made out of acid, and began flirting with the cute chick.  My heart immediately sank.  I felt so lame and unloved and lonely… And then I looked up and my family and friends were all looking at me like “What the heck is he doing?” and I felt like I had to make excuses for him, excuses like, “Well, it’s not like it meant anything that he held my hand, so it doesn’t matter if he flirts with someone else,” and “We’re not dating or anything, so whatever,” while my heart was busy breaking into a thousand pieces and telling my brain that I was never, ever going to be loved for reals.

It was seriously the absolute WORST dream I’ve ever had that wasn’t an out-and-out nightmare, and I woke up feeling ugly and stupid and unlovable.  And I hate that feeling.  I ended up going to bed early Thursday night, which is unusual for me, and I couldn’t get that freaking dream out of my head.  I woke up Friday SO GRUMPY that I just wanted to punch everyone and their dog in the face.  And I didn’t really get over it all day.

The Married One and The BFF were here this weekend, and her baby shower was yesterday.  She’s so cute with her pregnant belly, and one of my other friends is adorably pregnant, and there were all these redonkulously cute baby clothes floating around everywhere…  It just kind of stood in sharp relief to my dream and it just made me wonder when it will be my turn.  I know I sound like one of those desperate girls who just wants to get married at the exclusion of everything else, but I’m really not this bad most of the time, I promise.  It’s just that sometimes I can handle it, and other times I’m just over my limit and I can’t deal with being alone for ONE MORE SECOND.  I think it was just the combination of everything– the dream, the residual politics-talk funk, the cute overload– that sent me over the edge.  All I have wanted to do since Wednesday is sleep forever.  And I know what that means… it means that it’ll be all I can do for the next few weeks to keep my emotions in check, and it means I’ll hang onto some semblance of control until I’m alone and then I’ll cry until my eyes bleed, and it means I’ll need to sleep a lot more, and it means I’ll sort of hate everything for a while.  And then I’ll be okay, I think.

It makes me angry that my dreams have such sway over my emotions.  I’m sure my dream didn’t mean anything; I know for sure (in my head at least) that it doesn’t mean that no one will ever love me, but my heart just goes to town with stuff like that.  I wish I could just say, “Wow, maybe I shouldn’t have Cup Noodles and then take a nap… that MSG really gets to my brain,” and not feel like my whole world is crashing down around me.  Maybe someday I’ll learn how to do that, but for now all I can think about is how much crazier it is that I can’t even blame it on PMS.  At least that would be a reasonable explanation for reacting unreasonably to things.