I have a fantastic life.
I have a fantastic family. A fantastic dog. A fabulous house. Great friends. A job that only makes me want to stab people with spoons occasionally. Enough money to pay bills and enjoy myself every now and then.
In general, I'm happy. I am aware of the blessings in my life.
My brain chemistry is not always on the same page.
The other day I cried at work. A lot. I couldn't stop. I had an altercation with a co-worker and I wasn't feeling 100%, and I cried. And cried. Chef brought me blueberry bread. My co-worker brought me Kleenex. I blew my nose into the Kleenex.
I posted about it on Facebook. I am an oversharer.
My grandma saw. Called my mom. Was worried.
Mom told Dad. Dad commented, "I just don't know what it will take for her to be happy."
I am happy. I AM. I REALLY, REALLY AM.
But sometimes, my brain tells me I'm not. Sometimes, I have to cry. I can't control it. It controls me. And then, I'm fine.
