So much pressure on me to get us moved from my mom's house, but everywhere I turn to do something I can't. Stuff that is still undecided. Stuff that is being re-decided. Stuff that needs something done to it first. The decisions aren't mine, but the burden is.
I've made things "easy" for myself by not having an attachment to stuff, but it also leaves without a voice, or a way to move things forward. Packing up a house with a fragile soul is no easy journey. I actually have no problem speaking up for myself, but in this circumstance, doing so works against me. But it is sooooooo draining. It sucks my energy.
I thought I'd been doing ok, but yesterday it got to me. My frustration spilled over at the rather-dense MacDonald's drive through guy this morning, my reaction to his stupidity (he couldn't figure out the difference between oatmeal/porridge and oatmeal cookies, hilarious if i wasn't being such a bitch).
A big eyeopener for me, as it's been years since I left carnage on the souls of the poor folk who came into contact with me when I had unresolved issues bubbling below the surface (pre-therapy days, oh how obvious it is in retrospect to see that something was wrong).
I have to apologize to that MacDonald's guy next time I drive through.
And I have to have an outlet for my frustrations before I melt down. One wrong word from me here, and that would upset the applecart to the point of an applesauce catastrophe. Ha ha.
I was near tears when I arrived here this morning, but writing has done it's trick. I have perspective. I've gotten it out. Now I'll be able to cope without my emotions spilling over.
I may still be craving for this to be over, but it's ok. Somehow it's ok.
No comments:
Post a Comment