I’m gonna say it: I’ve been crabby lately. Snippy, snappy, irritated and crabby.
I’m not sure why—maybe it’s the startup of the early mornings that I’m not quite used to, maybe it’s the cooling weather (not a fan), maybe it’s a midlife crisis (still not a fan.) Maybe it’s the dog. The dog is a pain.
But whatever it is, I need to knock it off. There’s a slight chance it’s getting on some people’s nerves around here.
I’ve always thought of myself as a nice person, but now I’m not so sure. Lately I feel like I “play” nice more than I am nice. I’m non-confrontational, no doubt. I’m a born diplomat and generally passive, so I’ve long avoided the pitfalls of girl drama and I still do, except in one place—which is, unfortunately, my own head. Lots of girl drama there—plenty of pettiness and resentment, irrationality and hypersensitivity—and because it’s in my own head, I don’t have anyone to hash it out with. Except for you. (Thank you for joining me inside my own head.)
Such crabby spells are, obviously, a normal part of life. But acknowledging that doesn’t make them go away, and I want mine to go away. I don’t like being crabby because:
a) it puts a gruesome burden on those around me, and
b) it puts a gruesome burden on me. (And it’s all about me.) So,
c) everybody loses.