Wearing the proverbial hair shirt, if you will.
Usually, the mood passes or lifts.
However, there have been a few days when everything has felt wrong somehow.
Everyone has been stupid.
I was aggravated.
Actually, being annoyed? That happens a lot. I am annoyed at home. I am annoyed in the car. I am annoyed with people I love and people I already can't stand.
I have a lot of sympathy for my family, who really do not know how to deal with me when I am "in a mood", behaving like a petulant toddler. And it must be a relief at the end of the day, when I tumble into bed as soon as Ella drifts off.
I don't want to be hugged, or kissed. Or touched, actually.
But I don't want to be left alone.
I don't want to go anywhere or see anyone or do anything, either.
I don't want to drive, or be driven.
I don't want to eat, or prepare food for others.
I don't want to get dressed, nor do I want to lie around in my pajamas all day.
I hate my hair. So I got it cut. I hate the haircut.
The color was gross, so I dyed it. Worse now.
This is like Alexander's Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day combined with Groundhog Day, but Bill Murray isn't around.
It's a pity. He might cheer me up. He looks like a fun guy.
But no. Not even Bill Murray is coming to my rescue.
Desperate for relief from the doldrums (and bored out of my mind) I scrolled through Pinterest one afternoon as a last resort, looking for something to inspire, entertain or enlighten me.
An activity to pass the time until I did not feel like screaming into my pillow.
Alas, I just got more pissed off.
We, as a species, spend a lot of our time doing some really dumb things - all of which is carefully documented via well-lit photography, appealing fonts, and charming illustrations, to be gleefully bookmarked and pinned for a later date which more than likely will never come. Scrolling through the pins only served to remind me how little I get accomplished, how poorly I dress, how awful my house is, how boring my parties are, and how uninspired I am in general.
As my kids would say, "Epic fail."
Concerned? Don't be. I talked with my therapist about it. It was my first appointment, the first time we had ever met, and the poor man sure opened a can of worms with some of his questions. But in the end, we agreed. I'm not crazy. I'm just bitchy.
Is it menopause? Who the hell knows. But I will say this: it doesn't help that it's miserably hot.
It doesn't help that the news from around the world is pretty fucking depressing.
It doesn't help that I had to cancel our annual vacation to my hometown.
It doesn't help that I am missing Rollercon.
It doesn't help that my kids guilted me into adopting a cat.
I hate cats.
So in an effort to cheer myself up, I am making a list of things I love and cutting it into little pieces - one item per square - then dumping the whole thing in a bowl. Every morning, and any other time I start to feel a little bleak, I will pull out one guaranteed-to-please activity or special splurge, and commence said activity FORTHWITH AND POSTHASTE.
You should stick a pin in that.