This time of the year I struggle. I always have struggled during what is supposed to be a “joyous season.”
Oh I’m genuinely grateful, and I go through all the motions and rituals of the season attempting to be cheery.
But, I’m not. I am very moody. I brood. I pick fights. I bicker. I don’t want to listen. I am passive aggressive and trigger finger irritable. And I am often depressed, very depressed. Attempts to cheer me up are received with grins that help me fake my way through what is invariably just being pissy.
It’s very cyclical, predictable and more than just some seasonal affective disorder stuff. I just spend several months of the year pissy, all out pissy. Bah humbug.
I wish this year was different. It’s not, and I’m on the warpath again. It is actually worse this year; it almost feels like the despair I felt shortly after Hope’s placement is heaped on top of my already foul mood.
This isn’t good for what’s supposed to be a healing home, and it’s probably not so good for a hormonal teenager whose mouth I wouldn’t mind gluing shut about 67.89% of the time either.
So, add a couple of doses of guilt and self-loathing to the mix for good measure.
I can’t even withdraw this year; there’s no where to hide. And there’s only one a person or two to vent to, I mean totally no holds barred venting, because this is supposed to be a joyous time of the year and didn’t I want to be a mom? And aren’t we getting on so well?
I don’t want to admit that I’m going through a rough time. I hate how hard of a time I’m having getting myself together and keeping myself functional.
I’m feeling loss acutely at the moment. I’m struggling. I’m really struggling.
Oh look, another month of 2014 still left. Oh joy.