For my 100th post, I shall attempt to demonstrate how labile emotions can make you weep with exhaustion

So… my dad’s retirement dinner on Tuesday night… Many have asked how it went. And, I don’t have a great answer. That’s probably why I haven’t blogged for a few days.

That, and the extreme psychological exhaustion. Allow me to explain:

Tuesday was a blur: After 3 fitful hours of sleep, I meet my parents for breakfast at 7:30am. My parents dislike the waiter and leave him no tip. A stellar way to start the day… After breakfast, we drive to see this school my dad helped build. Apparently, it wouldn’t have been built if it weren’t for his leadership. The faculty and staff seem incredibly appreciative and fawn over him. This is… nice, but confusing to watch. I’m proud of my dad but embarrassed at the same time. Oh yeah, did I mention that the school is still under construction? Walking around the job site reminds me of my abandoned architecture career. My dad introduces me to everyone as “an architect.” Throughout the tour, I feel my emotions welling up… like I’m about to cry.

Mom and I have a couple of hours before our appointments at the salon so we drive back to her old neighborhood. We try to catch up with a meeting of her old garden club at the local library but miss them. We go to lunch instead. Question: if you order a “Thai shrimp wrap” would you expect that to be a do-it-yourself plate with separate piles of lettuce, cold shrimp, various nuts, rice, and spicy clear goo? No, you wouldn’t. For $20 you’d expect them to, I dunno, COOK?

We spend 3 hours at the salon. I submit to the most painful “blowout” I’ve ever had which leaves me with a puffy head of straw. Yes, I did suggest “volume” but… OW. After that torture is done, the nice lady applies so much makeup that I look… plastic. She complements me on my eye color and tells me that I could even wear blue eye shadow if I wanted. Ummm…. Really? Let’s just stick to browns, I tell her. This is as much conversation as we will have all afternoon. The rest of the time she just frowns and I try to dissociate. I’m feeling REALLY uncomfortable… kinda like a whore.

We drive back to the hotel, change and go to the retirement dinner. More about that tomorrow.

Wednesday, I spend the day with my friend, her wife, and their one year-old son. He. Is. Adorable. And only bit me once! I had a great time hanging out with them but… I am extremely tired at this point. I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep for five days. And, it’s a little depressing to see my friend’s baby. Why can’t I have one of those? What’s wrong with me?

Thursday morning, I wake up at 6am. Shower, dress, and say good-bye. Then gas up the rental car, out to the Belt Parkway, drop off the car, take the air train to the terminal, check in, walk what feels like FIVE MILES through the terminal to the gate and onto the plane by 8:30am. Whew. The guy next to me orders four drinks. Thanks buddy. I enjoyed watching you drink those three bloody Marys and that beer.

When I arrive at SFO, I’m shattered… emotionally and physically worn out. I wasn’t feeling that great when I left for this trip (see last week’s posts) and now I feel even worse. When I call my husband’s cell phone and see that it’s not turned on, I lose it. Where is he? Is he on his way to get me? Will I be sitting outside on the curb for hours? Why can’t he turn on his phone? I’m starting to panic. I leave him a cranky voicemail. Then, I see him walk into baggage claim. And I start to cry.

Sooo… I’ve spent the last 48 hours trying to get my feet back under me. There’s been hours of sleep, lots of unpacking, cleaning, and many, many hugs from my husband. And slowly, but surely, I’m starting to feel like myself again.

I hate how… weak all this has made me feel. It seems so… stupid. Why should a trip like this wear me out? I was only gone for 4 ½ days! It’s so hard for me to accept the limitations of my diagnosis. Even though I’ve spent the last four years working hard to treat my Borderline Personality Disorder, it still slows me down. Whenever I talk to my doc about this, he reminds me that some people deal with this by cloistering themselves. They never travel, never do anything new, never break out of their rut. And you know what? It helps them deal with their symptoms… cuts down on the dysphoria and anxiety and mood swings that come with this disorder. But, he always reminds me, they miss out on a lot.

So those are my choices… slow way down and regulate my emotions more easily OR live my life and get bounced around by the ride. Aaaand… the only way I’m going to know what too much looks like… is by experience. You know, like this past week? Whee.