Earlier, I did something I never do. I threw a book.
To tell you why I'm so shocked (and appalled) by my behavior, I should probably tell you that I love books. Books have been there for me when there wasn't anyone else. Books and I have always been close friends. I hate getting rid of books in any manner. I love books.
And earlier, in a fit of anger and hurt and hormones, I threw one.
I had hoped it would make me feel better, but it didn't.
Ace wasn't exactly happy to hear a loud thunk out of no where (or to find a book on the floor). And he told me I needed to figure out what was going on and to calm way down.
So, I took a drive, with the dog (who we had planned on taking for a car ride today). And it helped me calm down (it also helped that there was pretty much no one on the road at that time of day).
Now, I need to find a healthier way of dealing with my emotions when my hormones exacerbate them to bad levels that make me feel so angry and hurt. I need to talk or shout or something.
But I need to not throw books. Because books are my friends and that is no way to treat a friend.