Today I had my first visit with a chiropractor. It was long overdue, given my serious (and age-old) struggles in this arena:
The chiropractor thinks that all my problems began when my mama had a C-section (um, not that she had a choice). She says I was pulled from her belly by my head and neck, which caused vertebral misalignment, which is now the root of my dreadful back pain. Etc, etc. In any case, a (slightly) alleviated L5/sacrum intersection was not the only thing I noticed while driving home from her office . . .
I was kind of an emotional basket case! I got teary-eyed on the drive home, and then wandered around my house thinking about sad songs & failed relationships. WTF kind of "alignment" did she perform??? Because I was afraid to exercise after my first chiro visit, I instead focused my energies on not breaking into The Box.
There it sits, atop one of the 5 bookshelves in my living room (one just holds movies and magazines. but the rest are overflowing with books. I have a problem). It looks harmless--just a black box--but little does the unknowing visitor know, it contains masses of old love letters that, at a mere glance, can send me into the pitiful throes of nostalgia & longing (and sobbing).
Fortunately, I was successful. I limited my time listening to my "lovesick volume 5" playlist, only had 2 glasses of wine, and managed to avoid The Box. But what on earth is going on with me? Here's hoping that I snap out of it ASAP.
Do any of you have to endure these super-emotional days? I mean seriously y'all--I got a sweet email from a co-worker and started crying. This is not very productive . . .
The Coolest Free Sample Box – PINCHme
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