There isn't a lot I need to cope with. Really. I read lots of blogs and I know lots of people. And you know what? I am the first to admit that I have it easier than so many others, and also the first to be thankful for that. I mean, I am CONSTANTLY thanking God that I am as blessed as I am... and maybe that helps me cope too.
Pardon me, this is going to be a bit brain-dump-ey...
BUT every once in a while I get to the point where I need to vent. I have one of the longest fuses out there. BUT. But, that nagging little article of speech everyone dreads... But. If you read my blog on any kind of regular basis
And compounding the mad is the guilt I feel because, as I've said, I really don't have it bad at all. Roof over my head (albeit, a crappy, 100-year-old roof), food on the table, clothes, health... all good. So there's just this amorphous, directionless, vague anger bouncing around inside making me feel... well, ugly. Not in the sense that I feel like I could use a good makeup artist but in the "I don't like who I am" sense. I'm angry at my husband's job. I'm angry at the house I'm stuck living in. I'm angry at people who expect the world to take care of them regardless of effort or lack there-of to do anything about a situation. I'm angry at lazy people. I'm angry at... well, I don't even know, and that's the problem. I'm just mad.
And I'm doing my best to not take it out on people who don't deserve it, but that gets to be so damned difficult because I can't possibly take it out on those that do or that which does deserve my wrath. (And, for future reference, my wrath is NOT something anyone ever wants to see. I'm very good at being mad.) So the mad inside just stays there. Bottled up, bouncing to and fro, waiting to leak out through a harsh word or a barked command at my toddler or to turn my sigh of frustration over a crying baby into a scream of anger. It's always there, pushing at the edges of my conversations with my husband, trying to hone my words into weapons and wound with intractable insults.
But why? This isn't me. I'm not an angry person! I hate - hate- this mad in me. I want it out and I want it to not come back. I want to not look at the clock and be instantly furious. I want to step into my kitchen and not have fury flash into my heart over the cold, damp awfulness that my landlord allows to seep in through the non-functional door. I want to watch the news and not want to commit assault when I hear about the multitudes of people looking for someone else to blame for problems that can be over come with hard work. I. Just. Don't. Want. To. Be. Mad.
I don't want to growl angry hateful words about people who don't do their jobs and make my husband pick up their slack. I don't want to compare our paycheck to someone else's and think about how much more work we do to earn ours. I don't want to leave one job behind for another and have bitterness and scorn taint the good memories we've made.
Grrrr, go away, Mad!
I am happy with so much in my life. Beyond happy. I'm completely content and, as I said, so grateful for so much, that I guess I should probably embrace the stupid mad and be thankful that I can be mad that my husband works absurd hours because it means I want him here, home with us, instead. I guess that anger highlights how much I love him and his presence. I should learn from the frustration with this house and apply it to the next time we pick out a place to live...
But come on; I don't need week after week of a crappy work schedule or cockroach roommates to teach me life lessons! I get it!
I don't mind being mad when I can use it to do something positive... to be proactive or to make a change or something like that. But this mad just sits there... it's like the pain of childbirth versus the pain of a migraine... one is productive and has an amazing outcome and the other is just plain, stupid, pointless pain. This - what I'm dealing with - is like an anger migraine. Pointless and painful for no good reason.
I don't know. Maybe this will help. Bitching to you
So in the meantime, I'll get my funny on again and find my laugh deep down, underneath the cursing and growling, and step my game on up. Promise. Hold me to that.