Prickly Pear

I am a ball of stress and tension, and I don't know why. I mean, I can point out the work stress, but it's fairly minor right now. So it's not that.

I don't know what it is. I just know I'm feeling tense, and subsequently feeling snappish and sharp. And prickly. Oh, my, am I prickly right now.

There isn't a lot that is right that can be said. I have just about zero tolerance for people who expect me to give way to other people's feelings. I like to think I'm an empathetic and sympathetic person. I strive, generally, to understand where other people are coming from, to get their point of view and make myself see another perspective. I try hard to be generous and kind to other people's feelings.

But right now? They can all fuck right off, as can anyone who would like to tell me to be kind and understanding. I get it, I really do. I get that I am prickly and that it's hard to know what to say and what won't step on my toes and what is appropriate. I really, really do understand that. I'm very sympathetic to the difficulties.

And today? I don't care. I am more easily angered today. I am more likely to take offense today. I want to curl up in a ball and hide from the world, and because I can't, I am bristling and indignant at anyone who would dare to suggest that fault lays with me or that it is my responsibility to make our tragedy easier for other people to deal with. Fuck that, how about I just worry about me dealing with it?

The holidays are hard. They fucking suck. I mean, it is my favorite time of the year and I generally shy away from the victim mentality and from wallowing in the shoulda-woulda-coulda's. It is unproductive and embittering and I'm trying to look ahead. And right now, I'm having a hard time. It is fucking hard to know that if things had gone as they ought, I'd be washing tiny clothes and curling up around a big belly filled with my living son. It is fucking awful to be approaching that time I had so looked forward to, that would make us parents. It is hard to see the celebration and cheer everywhere and see reminders everywhere that life is not what we had expected it to be and that the pain never goes away, only wanes in intensity.

I knew it would be hard. I have been doing well, and I'm struggling to maintain that. Grief is not linear - that is bullshit. It's circular and you will walk around and around again, like a rose labryinth in a cathedral. I feel like I'm slipping backwards some to a darker place, and I don't want that. But sometimes we need those darker places, and maybe that's what it is.

Or maybe I'm just fucking hormonal. God only knows. I sure as hell don't. I just know that I am beyond irritable and I don't much like it and I don't quite know how to change it.

Oh, I can say with authority that getting a voicemail from the hospital and realizing that we have not actually received a bill is likely to mean that a bill was sent and not paid and fucked if that doesn't ratchet up the stress level about 5 notches.

PS - It's fucking cold and rainy, the dog doesn't want to go out, the kitten is attempting to eat my jewelry, and I haven't the foggiest fucking idea of when I ovulated, which is potentially problematic, apart from the sheer annoyance factor. I'm supposed to be having an SHG in 2 weeks and I most certainly need to be past my period - and I have no idea when it should be starting. Between all these tensions, it shouldn't surprise me that I currently resemble a bear drug from hibernation, should it?