Trying to Get a Grip

need to get a grip. I’m a mess these days. I don’t even know why.

I feel so put upon, as if the world is asking more of me than I want to give.

Which is stupid, I am only being asked what I’ve already offered.

So suck it up, buttercup.

Maybe it’s the time of year. Friday, March 6 was the two year anniversary of my last chemo. Why should that get to me? I don’t even know but I also don’t pretend to understand the human brain.

I know people suffer post-traumatic stress but seriously, self? What the hell? What I went through doesn’t necessitate PTSD, for Pete’s sake (aka, Pete Sakes.)

I’m here, aren’t I? Is that enough to celebrate? Why do I have to also be so low and annoyed at everyone and everything?

My poor husband and daughters don’t know what to do. If they look at me wrong I either glare at them, snap some snarky comment or cry. What the actual hell? Maybe I need a week-long nap. Someone swaddle me, rub my back and sing me to sleep. Or, you know, maybe everyone could just leave me the hell alone and I will just put myself to bed.

Whatever.

This too shall pass and all that jazz.

But until it does, I apologize in advance for anything I say or do that might be obnoxious. I mean, seriously, just ignore me for the next week or so. And please, PLEASE forgive me if it feels like I’m ignoring you. I promise it’s not you, it’s me.