The moment I knew I hit rock bottom: Vomit at the gas station

This is a Just PMSing original series titled “The moment I knew I hit rock bottom” where I tell y’all about some of my lowest moments. Don’t feel sorry for me. Just laugh and buy me a drink. If you have a story you feel can top mine, then start your own blog.

This story is rough, so apologies in advance. It’s called rock bottom for a reason. Not pebble bottom. Ok, that was stupid. Sorry.

It was my first day trying a new anti-depressant. I had spent weeks and months trying to find something that didn’t make me sick to my stomach. It was horrible, y’all. I’m talking I take the pill and then 30 minutes later, I’m throwing it up. Is that TMI? WELL LOL STRAP IN. But this particular instance, I decided to risk getting sick and I took the medicine before bed (mainly because my roommate was tired of my mood) — along with a delicious nausea med.

I woke up the next morning and went to work feeling slightly better. Work went well that day. I ate a full meal for lunch for the first time in weeks — a chicken salad sandwich with grapes and mayo and delicious stuff — and the sun was finally out after weeks of rain — something I hadn’t realized had such an effect on my brain and mood. It was finally looking like things might have turned around for me and my few months of anxiety and depression. As I’m writing this, I realize how painfully real it might be but it’s what life was like for a little while, SO SORRY TO BRING YOU DOWN.

Once it came time to leave work, I got a little anxious. This was nothing new. I would get anxious anytime I would have to leave a place — whether that was home or work or a restaurant. I hopped in my car and took off. I put some Ed Sheeran on to accompany my drive home la la la la.

It was that first song on Multiply, adorably titled “One.” Do you get it. It’s the first song on the album and it’s called One. That Ed Sheeran. Always adorable. So I was singing along — also something I hadn’t done in weeks because my mood had been so shitty. Singing and dancing in the car, I thought, man, I’m feeling like myself again. This medicine is working. IT’S WORKING, GOD, IT’S WORKING.

But you know that part in “One” where Ed Sheeran holds a note for 20-plus seconds? Do you know? Well, I was singing along and decided to be a hero and hold the note the same amount of time as him because this is now carpool karaoke with James Corden.

About 10 seconds into my big solo, however, I began coughing.

Coughing and some more coughing. No, more like hacking. You know the kind of hacking where you don’t know what’s going to come up and you begin looking around for anything to catch whatever comes out. HAHA HELP.

Driving down a highway in rush-hour traffic, suddenly, it was too late to reach for anything. I vomited all over myself and the front seat and the steering wheel for good measure. I somehow pulled off to the nearest exit BECAUSE JESUS TAKE THE WHEEL and a gas station was right there. There were no napkins in my car because I’m not a mother of three, so I jumped out to look for paper towels by the gas station pumps.

But it wouldn’t be a real gas station unless they were completely out of paper towels. The pump I pulled into didn’t have any paper towels. The next pump over didn’t have any either. So at this point I’m walking around a gas station with vomit dripping down me, while people looked on AND DIDN’T OFFER TO HELP. IT’S FINE I’M JUST DYING. I finally found some paper towels and took all of them to try my best to wipe myself clean. I cleaned up the steering wheel and my seat and my shirt, but my car still reeked of chicken salad vomit. lolololol


So after leaving my car window slightly cracked all night, and basically crying myself to sleep because I HAD OFFICIALLY HIT ROCK BOTTOM, I WOULD NEVER RECOVER, NO MAN WOULD EVER MARRY A VOMIT GIRL, I COULD NEVER GO BACK TO THAT GAS STATION, MY REPUTATION WAS RUINED, I knew I had to get my car washed asap. I mean I can’t live with a vomit-smelling car, I’m a middle-class American, I have standards, I have an image and a blog, people look up to me, ok sorry.

I went to work the next morning after D-Day and planned to use my lunch break to take my car to a car wash. Because I don’t know the area around my work at all, I simply typed in “car wash” in Apple Maps. Wow, do you think I’m an idiot now? I don’t even have the common sense to use Google Maps. I have to be a Siri hero and use Apple.

Siri led me to a car wash about 15 minutes away from my work. A do-it-yourself car wash where the best you can do it wash the bird poop off your windows. No, no, no. I needed like a legit cleaning, rub a dub dub, there-is-vomit-in-my-car car wash.

I left that car wash and looked for another one. Another do-it-yourself car wash 15 minutes away. I know what you might be thinking. Why didn’t I somehow ask Siri to not take me to DIY car washes? Why didn’t I have a car wash service come and get my car from work and do it for me? I DON’T KNOW, THAT’S WHY, LEAVE ME ALONE.

ONE HOUR LATER, I spent my entire lunch break, like a full hour, like 60 minutes, like thousands of seconds, driving around looking for a car wash. SPOILER ALERT I never found one. I had to go back to work without any food to eat because I didn’t have time and still with vomit stains in my car. It’s fine. What is dignity.

I’m also not going to confirm or deny if I’ve gotten my car washed since.

Welcome to rock bottom, PMS. Enjoy your stay. All visitors welcome. Plenty of vacancies.

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