A Stranger Ruined My Day & Now I’m Just Caught in A Storm of Sadness & Worry
83: I swear, these are frustration tears.
What’s the theme of how I’m feeling right now? Hmm
“I am a strong, strong girl
And I am here to say:
Well, I’m not cryin’, I’m not sobbin’, I’m not blubberin’, no
I’m not weeping, I am keeping it all under control.”
My nausea during this pregnancy has been a lot easier to rope in than last time. But our budget has definitely made it more difficult than it needs to be.
I had forgotten how often I relied on DoorDash last pregnancy to get me food that sounded good. That’s the crazy balance I have to try to keep up now: always having a vast array of food around so that when hunger (and therefore nausea) strikes, I have options of what I could possibly handle consuming. I’m so sensitive to taste and smell now and, when nauseous, eating has become a chore. What usually brings me immense joy as a foodie is actually a huge source of stress and disgust now that I am pregnant.
I get really upset about it sometimes, but usually I’m too desperate to find food that I am just hyper-focused on that. The other day, I was on my way back from teaching when nausea hit while I was driving. I had to pull over and formulate a plan. My mom had to watch Oakley a little longer. I needed food— now. I also knew we had an almost completely empty fridge. So I should get groceries instead.
But I couldn’t wait. So, I went to Jack in the Box, ordered what would hopefully be safe chicken tenders and what I knew would be safe fries (potato, my buddy). They told me to park in the front for pickup. I saw there were some spots marked for picking up food and I quickly parked there.
I tried to focus on my breathing with my face in my hands and the air on blast. I kept burping these terrifying burps. I get these when I’m nauseous and they always seemed to threaten me with the possibility of vomiting, which is always a fear. If I throw up, what door will that open? How will I eat? How will I feel better?
Before I can worry too much more, a nice little guy comes and delivers my food, to which I immediately eat. I am trying to push past how much I don’t want to eat because I know it will make me feel better. I watch Youtube videos while I do this so eating can become a secondary activity I am not focusing on. It helps a lot and I am able to eat a good amount of food.
I take some deep breaths and plan to watch a couple more shorts to be sure I felt okay to drive home.
But then, I was spooked by a knock at the window.
I look up and an old man in a veteran hat is at my passenger side. I stumble to pause my video without taking my eyes off the man. He did not look happy and I was definitely in a vulnerable position. Without looking, I clicked the button to roll down the window. I accidentally hit the button for my back right window and it opened a little.
The man didn’t seem to see this mistake and quickly hit the window with his fist again, barking, “Open the dang window!”
I open the window halfway. I am spooked. I say nothing.
He then tells me that they told him to park in spot 2 and I was in that spot. I said I picked up my food already and would be leaving now. Instead of being relieved, he yelled “Well, get out of the spot already!” I rolled up my window as he glared through my window. I found myself almost laughing because of how worked up this guy was getting about Jack in the Box possibly thinking I was him, which was just not possible.
I pulled out of the parking lot kinda smiling, but then realizing I was shaking. Why did I let this guy talk to me like that? I answered him with respect and did what he asked promptly and he was allowed to behave like an overgrown toddler over drive-through food.
I suddenly felt overwhelmed about how I couldn’t act in a way I wanted to in the moment. My autopilot was to be polite and accommodating, like I was an employee trying to impress someone. But no one was there to impress. This mean man felt he had the right to talk to me that way. Was it because I’m younger? Because I’m a woman? Because he’s an old, white man who thinks he’s allowed to act however he likes?
Once I was home, I was crying. Zach met me in the garage as I became a swirling storm of worry and hurt.