Ever have one of those days when you're just pissy? I had one today. I'm usually very cheerful, pretty much all the time, but today I was a diva.
It started out in an odd way. I'd had a few weird dreams of getting fired from my job; some Freudian manifestation of the desire for something new, perhaps. Who knows? Last night I dreamt I punched a co-worker right in the face and got fired. Reminds me of my crazy pregnancy dreams when I was carrying Rhianna. Those were really violent and bothered me a lot. When I told my obstetrician about them, he just laughed and said violent dreams were normal in the late stages of pregnancy. Said it was the maternal instinct awakening. Today, I had no such excuse. I was just...pissy.
After my shift was over, I dragged myself the two miles home, hauling bags of groceries and muttering sullenly under my breath. I hadn't eaten anything but a slice of pineapple all day and it had been a long, hard shift. I recognized the fact that I needed to get my blood sugar up, but there's a strange thing about a pissy mood. You kind of want to stay in it for awhile. Be a brat. Throw a bit of a hissy fit, tarnish your over rated halo, that sort of thing. And you know what? It's okay to do that. Like eating chocolate in moderation, a bit of a hissy fit can be absolutely delicious. I don't attack people verbally or otherwise, I'm not deliberately cruel, but when you're in a bad mood, hungry, tired and over-worked, there's something cathartic about going a little werewolf and howling at the moon.
When I got home, I made a lovely salad, garnished with turkey, strawberries and cheese, filled a bowl with fresh blueberries and cut an obscenely large slice of brownie I'd baked the night before. Lip still jutting, I stomped up to my room and devoured the entire feast.
My beloved roomie came in then. She'd had a pissy day as well and we spent a pleasant hour being harpies and ranting in a good old fashioned bitchfest. Oh, to have an outlet like that when one is unreasonably angry. A good friend to vent with and snarl obscenities over slights both real and imagined. It was glorious.
Now, replete with popping the pissy boil and letting all that anger drain away, I am calmly tippy-tapping on my keyboard, writing with a slightly self-derisive grin. It's good to look back and see that, despite an insecure twinge over my behavior, I'm not doing what I would have five years ago. I'm not attacking myself for being anything other than perfect. There's a beautiful freedom in that as well, and a recognition that the anti-insecurity exercises are working. Instead of hating myself for being a little bitchy, I find the whole thing more amusing than dreadful. Tomorrow, I'll be back to my old cheerful self. I'll get some sleep, remember to eat, and find comfort in the company of my own skin. May you all see yourselves as you really are and not only what you think you should be: both saint and sinner, pissy and pleasant, kind and a little thoughtless; a wonderful, elaborate yarn ball of every emotion and passion there is. A complicated, fascinating, living, breathing miracle. Take care.