Cry

Yup. 

I suuuurreee did.

In fact, I counted.

6 times.

Just yesterday.

Not like it was extended cry sessions over and over again (which would have been just fine, by the way!).

Instead, I decided that if the tears were going to come, I needed to let them out. 

I've been seeing an on campus counselor (who is WAY better than the first guy I went to) but I won't have access to her after I graduate in 4 weeks. So I decided if I was really going to get back to where I need and want to be, I'd better stop stuffing my feelings and start letting them all out.

Sunday I opened a notice from school telling me I had an insufficient number of units in my major to graduate. The tears started...and I stuffed them in.

All day long at church I stuffed it all in. The panic, the disappointment, the despair; I was exhausted by 3 PM. 

Sunday night Mr. Spin and I had a minor tiff, but still I was sorely burned. 

I went to bed upset.

I stuffed it in.

I woke up to Mr. Spin and Baby Spin chatting in the other room but I stayed in bed. I was still hurt. 

I stuffed it in.

 Mr. Spin came in to wake me up before he left.

That's when the tears came. And I let them

Baby Spin heard me and came in and cuddled the both of us. He said, "Mommy sad?" 

I said, "Yes, Mommy's sad. But it's ok to be sad sometimes. Just like we get happy or scared we can get sad, too. And it's ok."

Shortly after that I got a call from my mom about some trivial matter and then I related to her the issue with graduation.

The tears came again.

Later, Baby Spin and I trucked it over to campus to try and clear everything up with graduation. I love how rude older women think they can be to you just because you're younger than they are, especially secretaries. 

(Obviously they know more than us...NOT.)

More tears.

But this was accompanied by a hug and kiss from my kiddo. 

I made it to the elevator and rode it with a friend. As soon as the doors closed I cried for the full 20 seconds it took to go down 5 floors non stop. 

Thankfully, every stranger I cam across yesterday was extra considerate in opening doors, providing me with computer access, etc. It's nice to know that there are still people in the world that don't judge a pregnant woman with a screaming child on a school campus. 

My back was in pain all day and had been since the weekend started. But I had to walk. I couldn't even put full weight on my right leg due to my sciatic nerve. But I walked all over campus and eventually made my way to class anyway. No choice.

Luckily, Mr. Spin got home early and picked me up after class and also was able to pick up Baby Spin, too. Our little munchkin fell asleep in the car and thankfully again, Mr. Spin was there to carry him while I limped inside. 

I opened the door to our completely disheveled apartment and...

it was clean.

Mr. Spin had cleaned and vacuumed before picking us up. He put Baby Spin down for a nap. He came out of the bedroom and into the kitchen and gave me a hug because he "hadn't done it yet today, and not really much at all lately." 

Once again, tears. 

A little while later I caught up on some phone calls to family to thank them for the birthday cards and gifts. During my conversation my back went out. Again. The 4th time in 24 hours. I had already tried calling around to cheap massage places but no one was available for that evening, so I just decided to deal with out any treatment. But at this point, I couldn't handle the pain anymore. I couldn't even stand up.

I did the one thing I have been avoiding, predominantly over the past three days. I have two friends who are very, VERY well trained masseuses, and although they have offered to work on me they are also full time moms...how can I ask them?

But the pain was EXCRUCIATING. 

So I called...

...secretly praying they wouldn't pick up so I didn't feel guilty...

but one did. 

I told her my situation and asked what I could do for relief myself. She said- 

"COME OVER."

The last time for the day...

the tears came.

She lives in our complex, but it still took about 15-20 minutes for me to walk there.

She worked for 1 hour and 40 minutes while I locked my jaw and bit into pillows. It was bad. She was amazing but the shape I was in was pretty bad. BAD. It was a relief to hear that from a professional, actually. The last thing I wanted to hear was that it could be worse or that it's 'manageable.' I hate complaining and I try and deal. I thought my pain tolerance was high, but maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought it was?

It was. 

Worse, actually. 

I had no clue it was in my back and down past my knee. 

And was it.

But when she finished, I could walk. 

I could still feel the nerve a bit, but I could walk with both feet under my hips using even weight distribution. It was unreal.

We chatted the time away, and although we hardly ever see each other, it was such a relief to talk to her. We get each other. And when you're this kind of 'crazy' sometimes it's hard finding people who will mentally go there.

(Moving is going to be hard.)

But recapping on the day:

Yesterday, I cried about cruelty and judgement.

I cried out of disappointment.

I cried out of relief.

And I cried out of gratitude. 

I was once told that I cry too much. However, in my attempts at stifling my emotions I realized something: 

You can't ever cry enough.