"Make sure I always drink 150 litres of water a day." "Okay."

Those were my whispery, pain-induced words, last night at 3am in the morning after I took 2 panadols to stop the jack-hammer that was forcing its way out of my head, crack by crack at a time.


Never mind the stomach cramps, no those were child's play compared to the head cracking.

It had been a long day. A hard, long day at times, towards the end though, it had actually turned out great. However most of the day I was all "Woe is me." I wasn't liking it one bit.


I spent a good majority of it whinging about all things surrounding my birthday.



I want lots of people to come out to the bar on Friday night.

I want lots of people to come out so it makes up for last years poor performance.

What about Saturday's party, will my cousins be upset I didn't invite them?

Will they see my facebook photos and be upset? Will it start a war?

Why haven't they come to my place yet?

Why should I throw an official party so they come?

Crying. Whinging. Depressed. Sobbing. Just all round down, down, down.

I'd had some deep and meaningfuls with my mum and sister over the past 2 days. Although they meant well, those talks definitely contributed to my downfall in demeanour.

It happens every year. Every year, leading up to my birthday, something REALLY gets me down. Like clockwork something happens. I'm starting to think that it's because I put soooo much emphasis on my birthday, and I build it up and look forward to it so much that quite inevitably, the slghtest thing happens to trigger an onslaught of negative emotions. Either someone upsets me, I remember something bad (yes I get THAT sensitive), someone doesn't agree with me, etc, etc. And suddenly the tidal waves of tears crash down with fierce intensity.

Hubbie was awesome. After getting me to snap out of my stupid/sad/pathetic state, I slowly went through my bullshit arguments to try clear up all the sadness I was feeling overwhelmed by.


1. Who cares who comes on Friday night? I knew for a FACT that I would definitely be with Hubbie, Red, Blonde and Mr Wine. Our group would rock the joint and have the most fun ever! It's not the quantity of people, rather the quality.


2. As above, with the addition of, so what? The difference between this year and last, is I won't be holding on to expectations of waiting for people to turn up and make me happy. I'll be happy because I'll make the happiness.


3. No. Firstly, because our house doesn't fit a million people, secondly, any cousins that I've called for Friday night will be called for Saturday, and thirdly, they themselves might even be otherwise engaged with the multitude of August birthdays that we have in our familial calendar!


4. No, because who doesn't come Friday, won't be called Saturday. And if they don't come Friday, most likely because they're busy Friday and/or Saturday.


5. Because they want a freakin' formal invite and the red carpet to be rolled out (hence the deep and meaningfuls before mentioned with Mum and Sister).

6. Because, at the end of the day, they do love me, they do care, and if they didn't they wouldn't have showered Hubbie and I with so much love, affection and presents as they did on the events leading up to our wedding day, including the big day.

Ok, so the last 2 points weren't entirely related to the birthday topic, but they did prove a point of confusion for me yesterday.

So I eventually got better-er, saw Blonde, Red and friends again last night for a catch-up (after seeing Blonde after her flight back here on Sunday).


However my new-found joy didn't help the fact that in the midst of my rage-fuelled depression during the day, and contributing-developing stomach cramps, I had failed to drink enough water. I had in fact, drank very little water, and that coupled with the fact that I had cried a few oceans, left me as dry as a desert.


Bringing us back to the post title. Lying in bed after taking my drugs, I was trying to keep myself very still in order to keep my head from throbbing so much. Every movement brought with it more pain. I'd never experienced anything like it. I'd never really had headaches, EVER until perhaps the age of 18 onwards, and even then I'd say "my head hurts" instead of "I have a headache," because it didn't seem so bad. And I soon learnt that I only got them (however rarely) when I didn't drink enough water.

Usually sleep washes it away. I wake up all refreshed and the 'hurt' is gone. I know drinking water isn't enough, especially at that late stage, so sleep is really the best medicine. But it clearly wasn't enough last night. I fell asleep and found myself tossing and turning, for 3 hours, until I reached such a painful point that I was mercifully thrown from my half-asleep stupor into full consciousness, whining, whispering "I have such a headache."



And then, while I waited for the wonderful drugs to kick in, I let Hubbie know, whimpering, in my struggling, agonised tone of voice,


"Make sure I always drink 150 litres of water a day."

"Okay." he whispered back.



(P.S My Birthday Extravaganza is gonna be Awesome!)