Pissed off, actually.
Every now & then I get in a mood where every wrong that was ever done surfaces. Whether it’s to me, to my kids, by me, or to humanity in general. And it just spirals until I’m in such an angry, pissed off mood that no one is safe.
I usually decompress with jumping jacks until my legs give out. Or by drinking too much wine (as if there is such a thing).Or by just yelling at every living thing that crosses my path (my apologies to the cat & the chinchilla).
Because I don’t want to write about it. Writing about it means you’ll know I’m not perfect (because I’m sure I’ve had you all fooled up til now). And writing about it means I have to admit that I’m not perfect (because sometimes I have myself fooled).
But here goes…
at your betrayal
at your criticism
that I believed your criticism all these years
that Donald Trump is actually winning this thing
that a boy tried to make my daughter feel less than
that my son doesn’t realize how amazing he is
that sometimes I’m the reason my son doesn’t realize how amazing he is
that I’ve passed on some horrible thinking to my children
about my budget
at the extra 20 pounds my medication put on
that I’m blaming the medication for the extra 20 pounds
that you’re 15 minutes early
that you’re 15 minutes late
that I can’t find a fireplace grate to fit my teeny tiny fireplace
that my fireplace is so teeny tiny
I don’t have your life although I know your struggles & if I had to choose, I would choose my struggles over yours
David Bowie died
it’s snowing… again
that you only get in touch when you want something
that you want me to be something I’m not
that I thought you were something you’re not
I will never succeed at anything on Pinterest
I let myself be swayed
you live so far away
that big boobs get you special treatment
you gave up
I gave up
Now… where’s that wine?