Facing the Negativo

The last couple of weeks, I seem to have fallen prey to The Negativo. Suddenly, my first reaction to everything is negative. Anger, irritation, impatience, anxiety, dread. It's seething just underneath my skin, and it's provoked at the least infraction. And then it's like the worst version of me just jumps down the nearest person's throat. For example,

* The Dirty Film Boys are back, smelling up the common area. Every time I walk to the bathroom, the one closest to the door turns and stares at me. I am SORRY if the click-clack of my heels on the concrete annoys you, but get over it.

* On the way back from J. Island last week, my Garmin lost its ever-loving mind and directed me into the least populated corridors of the state. And when I turned around for the second time that day using the interstate median out of frustration, I promptly found myself sidelined by the state patrol. I had never ever cried on a cop until that day. "Happy belated birthday," he said. "I'm just going to give you warning."

* The Fam is experiencing too much togetherness. Patience is fraying; tempers are flaring. We're all slightly sick of the sight of each other but are quite at a loss how to avoid the suffocating conditions. Anna, though doing remarkably well, just isn't quite ready for abandonment and so we go and we sit together and we try not to kill each other.

* Work has me tense and knotted. I love my job, but right now, it just feels like everything is on level ten. There are too many balls in the air and I'm distracted...by...what, I don't know. By the shift in the office environs because of the Rockstar's impending departure. And the potential replacement's frightening Type-A over-achieving ways.

* I'm totally annoyed by people who do things better than me. How ridiculous is that? But it's like, I want the universe to give me a break, to give me some arena where I'm a winner free and clear. But instead, I'm on the insecurity train and riding shotgun.

* Another wave of grief seems to have washed over us all, and at times, it makes me resent every spark of happiness in the world. I want to tell other people not to smile. Because every time I think we're seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, it fades into the distance, and all I can hear is the echo of our voices in a long dark cavern that never seems to end.

* I hate waiting. I'm so mad at waiting. Waiting for the next thing. Waiting for it to be the right time to buy a house. Waiting for the time when I'll feel like writing a book. Waiting for friends to blossom out of acquaintances. Waiting for a time when I don't stand in a room full of people and feel like the loneliest person in the world. Waiting for a time when my whole life isn't hijacked by mourning.

* I resent practicality. I want to throw caution to the wind and plan trips and be carefree. I have 80 percent of my vacation left. I have no idea when or how to take it. And sometimes, when I think about it, I just feel more tired trying to think of how to use it. I just sort of want it to go away.

* I worry about us all...all of us with our respective heart conditions. Anna's broken into a million tiny pieces. Dad's grown tired and stressed. Mom's heavy with her worry for us all. And mine empty and lonely and guilty and sad for feeling all that it feels.