Your Most Over-the-Top Emotional Meltdown

Illustration for article titled Your Most Over-the-Top Emotional Meltdown

Sometimes shit in life becomes too much and something—be it small or large—pushes you over the emotional edge. Often these bouts of OH GOD MY FUCKING LIFE FUCK YOU FUCK ME FUCK EVERYTHING are accompanied by shouting, crying and general displays of melodrama that you're sure to feel dumb and embarrassed about later. So tell us: When was the time you most epically lost your shit?


A quick poll of the burnouts at shows that a lot of our freak-outs are weed or shrooms related, but there were other stories, too. One staffer was so enraged by her brother that she got distracted and rolled her car into oncoming traffic; an editor, realizing she'd have to come home to frozen New York City after a tropical vacation, burst in tears because she "just wanted to fly kites;" there are several of us who've meltdown at parties over ex boyfriends; Kate Dries hasn't "had a public meltdown since childhood" because she's void of emotion and possibly the inspiration behind American Psycho; and I have one particularly mortifying memory of being overcome by sobs in front of my high school algebra class because—as I howled to my teacher—"I DON'T GET IT AND I'M NEVER GOING TO GET IT."

(Wow: Overly emotional bad drivers who can't do math. Oh, god: THE MRAs ARE RIGHT.)

Before you share the tales from the end of your rope, let's celebrate the winners of last week's Pissing Contest, Your Strangest Secret Single Behavior.

BurlyqLawyer, who's having the best alone time:

I fart with wild abandon and laugh at the noises. I fart as I high kick. I fart while plié-ing. If I'm laying down, I stick my butt high up in the air and fart. I'll fart when I'm far enough into the relationship, but not with the same gusto.

WTF with NoodleStory:

I hold full, out-loud, long conversations by myself, pretending I'm a guest on WTF with Marc Maron. Sometimes I politely argue with him; sometimes we battle; sometimes I just charm him with my stories and wit. It's intensely self-indulgent and embarrassing and I love it. I would DIE if someone overheard me. I have a whole backstory about how I wrote a screenplay, and I'm nominated for all kinds of awards.


Gnomi Malone, RIP:

Sometimes I like to randomly flop down with my tongue hanging out the side of my mouth and imagine what my chalk outline would look like if I died suddenly while folding the laundry or something.

Occasionally I follow that with slowly curling my fingers up like corpses do during rigor mortis then I quickly check out my nails. It gives me great satisfaction when they are on point because no matter how bad my hypothetical dead body may look, the EMTs or coroners will probably appreciate some elegant fingernails.

Obviously I don't ever pretend to be a dead body when my husband is around. That would be weird.


Well done, weirdos.

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Image via Jawbreaker/TriStar Pictures.



This is a story of how one of the worst days of my life ended up reaffirming my faith in strangers and in the human race in general.

When my children were little- 4 years old and 2 years old- I was a very depressed stay-at-home mother in a failing and passionless marriage. When I look back on that period, I do not see it as a series of snapshots of magical moments in which I baked cookies and made macaroni art and read Amelia Bedelia while doing all the voices for all the characters- but as a time when I was desperately unhappy and terribly lonely. I did not get along with my mother-in-law at that time and my own parents lived in another state, so I had a very minimal support network. Often, I was stuck at the house with the kids for days on end. The isolation and constant drudgery really wore me down.

One afternoon, following a particularly difficult morning, I decided to pack both kids into the double stroller and walk to a nearby eatery to treat myself and the kids to some lunch. The kids were being fussy and uncooperative that day, so by the time I got to the front of the line with them, I was already stressed and frustrated. I ordered our food- a couple of soups and some sandwiches- and as I grabbed the tray to walk back with it to the table, I tripped over my own diaper bag. Everything went flying all over the everything- the floor, the nearby tables, myself. This was the proverbial straw. I shouted "I GIVE UP!" and sank to my knees, sobbing. If I could have sunk through the floor, I would have kept going. I was aware that the other patrons were staring at me, but I was just too distraught to even care or do anything but kneel there and sob like a madwoman in the middle of the restaurant.

Suddenly, a swarm of friendly strangers were gathered around me. They were cleaning up the mess, patting me on the back, offering words of consolation. An employee immediately brought out a new tray with fresh items on it, no extra charge, and set it on my table. Another friendly person helped both of my children to sit at the table, and another man helped me off the ground and sat me down next to them. I was so stunned by this random display of kindness that I could do nothing but sit there with my children and eat in silence.

As we were preparing to leave, an older lady that had been seated near me and had seen the whole thing approached me, and said "We've all had days like that, dear. I want you to know that I can tell you are a good mother, because even though it's obvious you are having a very bad day, you never once took it out on your little ones. You are doing a good job."

I left that restaurant feeling like I could face whatever came next- and also, that humans are sometimes unexpectedly wonderful.