I was sent over the edge today by a pizza pan.
Today was not a good day. As usual, it's a culmination of a lot of little annoyances that pile on top of me until one seemingly small incident sends me headfirst off the Cliffs of Sanity into the Fits of Hissy. Although throwing a fit (and a spatula) does make me feel better temporarily, the fallout isn't worth it. People who live with me are left bewildered and confused as to what exactly my problem might be. If they comfort me and tell me it will be okay, I don't believe them, and if they give me wide berth and leave me alone, I feel neglected and start to pout.
(Hello, my name is Kim and I'm two years old).
We all have our breaking points - some of us break fast and furious, then get over it. Some of us are slow burners who eventually explode, spewing forth every injustice they've encountered for days, weeks, even months. Some of us are a combination of the two, depending on the day. I mean, I'm not going to waste a good stomp/slam/throw over something trivial. Most days, I can laugh it off. Sometimes, I can laugh it off after about 10 minutes. But today was not one of those days.
And if I stop for a minute and do a little deep breathing and soul searching, I know exactly what it is. It's not because my pizza stuck to the stupid baking stone.
It's that there is a huge hole in me and it will never be filled again. How do I articulate this and make people understand why I go all black mood at the drop of a hat, when I don't even understand? I'm tired of feeling this way, I'm tired of apologizing for behaving so childishly, I'm tired of giving off the "leave me alone" vibe when I just want someone to hug me and pat my head and tell me it will be all right, and I want to believe that it will be all right, I really do.
I do not want to live my life this way, but as much as I try to bury my feelings of cynicism and distrust deep down and focus on my many blessings, Deep Down is giving them back me saying "yeah, good luck with that." Undeterred, I shove them back down and slam the door in their faces, double-locking it. I dust off my hands and say, "there, that'll show them." But like cockroaches and leggings, they refuse to go away quietly. Slowly they churn under the pressure, little tendrils of black start to seep out through the cracks, and KA-BLOOEY!
And so we have come full circle.