Friday, March 16, 2012
I'm wearing new pants...angry pants.
Since surgery, the best way to describe me is angry and agitated. I hold it together at work (which I'm still enjoying BT dubs). And then I get home, and I lose all ability to control my temper and my emotions. Poor Inspector Climate can do no right - he is always standing in the Gosh Darn Wrong Spot. All the time. I MEAN SERIOUSLY. I want to go to the sink. He's standing at the sink. I want to put veggies in the pan ... he's in front of the stove!
I'm not sure if I can blame surgery - perhaps something with my hormones has changed since Jorge has been ousted. Or maybe I'm still adjusting to my new routine at work. Or maybe I'm having really bad withdrawal symptoms because I haven't done yoga in over 2 months. Whatever the reasons, I'm not a big fan of the amount of angry that is consuming me.
This rage is a totally new thing for me. Sure, I've dabbled in depression - who hasn't it?
And there was that good nine months when I was on the pill that I cried four times a day.
And while that was hard, it was only me. Sure, Inspector Climate could only cuddle me as I sat on his kitchen floor sobbing - but I wasn't yelling at him, I wasn't involving him in the chemical twists of my brain. I certainly wasn't angry with him for things that are so minute I can't even believe I get so upset about them 15 minutes later.
I'm sure it will pass - as I learned last week, all things are permerary. And until then, don't mind me - I've got a lot to be pissed off about you know? A sweet husband, a nice albeit moldy apartment, a job I love, and friends all around the world (that's you!).