Catching Idle Butterflies

Under Duress

I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to write this. I do so only because I must. Every part of me is screaming for me to stop. By going any further, and submitting my words, thereby burdening you with my angst, well that simply isn’t right. You have your own life, your own burdens, and your own struggles. Who am I to add to them?

For the past week I have been on the low side of this roller coaster ride I call Life. All alone I push and I pull, but the car won’t move.

I’m stuck.

Tuesday it got so bad I snapped at two co-workers really for no reason. Luckily they ran away - not screaming, but close - and left me alone to stew in my guilt. I apologized to both a few minutes later, and they graciously accepted. Still, I knew it was only a matter of time when I would do it again. I could feel it, much like a ferocious predator lying in wait for any pray to come along to pounce on, tear limb from limb, and devour. I came very close to leaving for the day, not willing to subject them, other employees, and possibly clients to further abuse.

I knew it had mostly to do with hormones (wee), so by lunchtime, I was able to force myself to calm down.

By Thursday I returned to normal.

Or so I thought.

I woke up today in a grumpy mood, even though I took the day off. I wondered at that. Here I have a three-day weekend and I’m “in a mood”? Lovely.

I tried helping Dave put eye drops in Rufus’s eye that is supposed to help keep the swelling down. After three or four failed attempts Dave told me - again - to hold the eye drops a few inches above her eye. I snapped saying, “Fine. You do it then.”

God, I hate myself sometimes. I hate that I can’t control what I feel, especially when they’re negative emotions like frustration, anger and sadness, and I lash out at others because of them.

I ended up emptying the bottle trying to get one lousy drop into Rufus’s eye, not succeeding once.

Dave then left to buy another one. He said he loved me. I answered back I loved him too, but my brain thought, “Why would you? I’m hardly loveable.” Ain’t self pity grand?

While Dave was gone, I spent a few minutes swimming in my self-pity, then began talking to God. I bitched about how I hate being like this, especially since I have no reason to. What on this earth do I have to complain about anyway? I want for nothing, I need not fear the people around me, what my government does, or what tomorrow may or may not bring.

Who am I to feel frustrated and sad, let alone tell others, and thereby make them deal with it along with me?

After I cried myself out, I felt much, much better. My problem was not being sad or frustrated, per se, but that I had pushed it down and out of sight instead of feeling it.

I’m sure some of you focused on the part of my describing certain emotions as negative.

But are they? After all, God gave us those emotions for a reason. Is it really healthy to be happy, joyful and optimistic all the time? If not, then why should I try to force myself to be that way, mentally trying to rewire my brain when I fall short?

After hashing it out, God showed me a few things. I was grumpy today because I buried my frustrations without asking the ‘why.’ It was more than a simple hormonal imbalance. I’m angry at God for making me wait for the things I pray for. I’m angry at myself for telling people about my dreams and desires, and then having to explain why nothing’s happened. I’m angry at my mother for expressing her disappointment at having no grandchildren. Talk about being burdened! I have enough trouble with my own disappointments, I don’t need hers piled on top.

Land surveying is not an exact science. When I go out to tie in property corners, though on paper it shows the property, for example, as 200.00 feet by 200.00 feet on the ground it may show as 200.23 feet x 199.97 feet. It may seem something went wrong when the property corners were set, but if the land was surveyed using a transit and chain, well, that’s pretty darn close. Nothing in this life is ever exact anyway. There are too many variables to take into consideration. I can go out one day to tie in property corners, even using more modern equipment, go out the very next day using the same equipment, and the numbers will be different.

Now I bet you thought I changed the subject on you. Nope. Read on.

My boss who’s an engineer and likes things to be more accurate balks at such inaccuracies.

I always tell him, “It is what it is.”

My own words came back to me today. Emotions, too, are what they are. We can’t hide from them, run away from them, or bury them. We need to feel them, study them, and discover why they’re there. Hormones may heighten my emotions, but I still experience them for a reason, however small. By trying to suppress them, they push back with equal or greater force, and I run into problems like I did this morning.

Since I eventually took the time to feel my frustrations, I understood the why behind them, and can now move on. My burden is lightened, and I’m now starting to move uphill on my roller coaster.

Thanks, Dad. I needed that.