I’m not a good person to be around these days. I’m a little bit mean and a little bit nasty, a little too often, and when you add a side of impatient judgmentalism, you get someone who should practice being a hermit more.

Preferably a hermit who doesn’t send messages or emails, or who makes calls to businesses or people I want to maintain relationships with.

My energies are busy, and being forced to redirect my focus when I’m struggling lights my fuse. Good thing it’s short.

I’m having mental health challenges right now, and any energies not devoted there are divided between my dad and my dog, though not necessarily in that order, with a small portion for my kids as well, a smaller serving than they need, probably, but my cup is currently close to empty.

I could let them know I’m struggling a little bit so they don’t perceive a slowdown in communication as rejection. I haven’t as yet for a couple of reasons.

One, even though they’re adults, I’m still wedded to the idea of the hierarchical command structure. Problems flow up from kids, not down to them.

Two, we really don’t like to talk about Bruno in my family. We like to keep emotions and struggles on the down low. “I don’t want to be a bother” is surely genetically encoded in my family tree. Will debate politics until someone rings the bell, but we don’t talk about how we feel unless it’s fifteen minutes to never.

Three, people often don’t comply when you tell them that alone time to deal with your struggles is what you currently need. Acceding to that request is a challenge for most. Generally, people want to help, rescue, and fix. Our need to do so butts up hard against a conflicting request.

People listen when you tell them what you need, but that’s not the same as hearing what you say.

I appreciate the good intentions, but it’s ignoring me and stepping all over the boundary I’ve drawn.

I think perhaps they don’t understand the energy it takes to interact with other people when you’re struggling. Friends and family mean well, and they always think they can help in some fashion – I’ll just pop by for a quick visit, do some cleaning for you, take your mind off things, blah blah blah – but I have to exert significant energy to present as normal when things are most definitely icky.

The hard truth is I don’t always have the spoons for other people.

Sometimes people will say, “You don’t have to act like you’re feeling fine for me.” Not everything is about you, Brenda. I don’t always want to show my guts and glory to the world. I want space to deal with my neuroses, and I feel hemmed in by an audience.

I don’t want to deal with another person’s energy in my space, and this applies to everyone, even to those who imagine they’re the exception.

They’re not. I’m just a dab hand at hiding frustration and rage.

People spend and have spent a great deal of my life telling me what I need.

Wouldn’t it be nice if the world and her brother listened occasionally when I responded?

I need to stop interacting with the public, as well. When I’m like this, I’m a bit like Godzilla, stomping around and turning my environment into scorched earth with my borderline and border-crossed hostility. A better choice is to stay away, order online, and slow my roll.

I will turn a corner, and my mood will improve; I will find my stability, and I will probably want to be welcomed back to the local establishments. That last piece becomes unlikely if I continue to interact and leave a nasty taste in the mouth.

It’s unfortunate that it takes less than nothing to get my back up right now.

What do you mean, the machine is broken? Buckle up, and I’ll tell you my feelings on that bit of incompetence.

I’m testy and grumpy, and I’m too often close to wrecking someone else’s day, which makes me feel worse, ensuring further crap behaviour on my part as self-criticism enters the chat.

Maybe I need a warning vest to let people know to stay away?

I wonder if it’s too late to run away from home?

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