Yup. That is where I am. Everything suddenly seems really, really important. How many people who know me well are now looking for a bomb shelter? Because the words “larger than normal emotional response” and “Lydia” going together in the same hemisphere, never mind the same sentence…well, that’s just scary. I’m overreacting to everything from Facebook posts to childish skirmishes to Adam’s every grimace of discomfort. I was ready to go to war with an acquaintance over an idiotic, insensitive post aimed at those with weight problems. I think I am justified in thinking his behavior is complete jack-assery (I coined that one myself and am very proud, thank you), but my desire to fire bomb him was just a bit over the top. Likewise, the fact that Kara has again hoarded half the junk from her room plus dishes, dirty clothes, books, and the odd dvd under her bed is truly annoying. It is even worthy of punishment as she has been firmly instructed that cleaning does not mean shoving sh*t under her bed. However, doing my best impression of a banshee might be a small overreaction…. At least I didn’t cuss…that time. And if I hear the phrase “Are you okay?” come out of my mouth one more time, I’m going to yell at me. I can only imagine how sick of it Adam must be. Thankfully, he’s even more sick of feeling bad than he is of me asking about it, so I’ve been safe thus far. Sometimes I feel like I’m so busy taking care of stuff that I have no time to just sit and feel how I feel…to process the overflow of emotion that has come over the last month. Sometimes that means that I’m just numb, but the numbness has been punctuated by these massive outpourings of irritation, anger, fear and grief. I feel really powerless sometimes, and I hate that. I also feel so much, but I know it is still only a fraction of what Adam feels. I hate that too. So. If I tell you not to be nice to me, it’s because I know a storm is coming and I don’t want to inflict it on you. Actually, you should probably be nice to me anyway. I need to let the storms come – the pressure that is building is intense and if we wait for it to blow I can guarantee the results won’t be pretty. That’s one reason I write these blog posts. Writing forces me to look at and deal with myself. You should see the posts that never made it to the blog…well, obviously, NO, you should not see those posts. The phrase “ranting, raving lunatic” comes to mind, for some reason…. So, yeah, cancer sucks. Advertizements about snake oil cures and preventative measures aren’t just annoying, they’re infuriating. Stories on support group websites aren’t touching, they’re terrifying. The very phrase “proportional response” is foreign right now. Things are either astonishingly good or unbelievably bad – and I mean compared to my normal reactions, which no one ever characterized as moderate in the first place.
Adam usually manages to inject a lesson into his posts. That must be why he’s the pastor and I’m…really not. I’m the one you cuss to. Because sometimes that’s just where we are. It’s not that I’m mad at God – I was when my babies didn’t sleep through the night, but it seems that no part of me had an expectation of immunity to this kind of hard time. But I’m really, really sad. I’m tired. I’m occasionally overwhelmed. And I’m also okay. I’m here and willing to face what’s next. I’m trusting that I’ll be ready for it when it happens. I’m trying not to borrow whatever trouble may be coming up, but finding that to be very difficult. (I still think I have an untapped talent for borrowing trouble…well, maybe not entirely untapped….) So for now, my emotions are overflowing sometimes. Beware. Build a shelter. Take cover. Whatever works for you. Hugs work for me…and chocolate, wine, funny stories, and all other sorts of diversionary tactics. Also, I am carrying tissues, so I should manage not to cry on you….