I feel like I owe the world an apology for the way I sometimes see things. For my occasional inability to find joy where everyone else does. For my penchant for feeling gut twisting jealousy when I have no business doing so. For my angry thoughts. For my twisted sense of logic. For my inability to pray. For my lost patience. For my tempers and moods and self pity.
Or maybe I do have the right to see life through these jaded eyes but just have trouble making the justifiable fit into the nice, pretty, organized world around me. The world that doesn't like to think that people feel the way I do sometimes, justified or not.
You know, I worry incessantly that I'm turning into someone ugly and bitter that people are eventually going to opt not to be around.
Which then makes me want to fall to my knees in a tear and snot filled frenzy and beg for forgiveness.
When I try not to be the ugly person I am inside during these moments of torment, I end up feeling like a fraud. And a confused one. Is trying to be a better person actually not being true to yourself? Is trying to change the way you feel about something lying or healing? Can you re-train your brain after something so earth shatteringly tragic has altered it?
I never used to be like this. I swear I didn't.
I'm at war with my head today. Can you tell?
I don't fault other people who are grieving and recovering for the feelings they have or their reactions to the ordinary that is suddenly anything but. I never have. But for some reason I have a hard time cutting myself the same slack.
I think I need a cookie. That's the only answer. Clearly.
So, you know, if you have a really good recipe that you're willing to share and you feel so inclined, I'm all ears.
I could use the distraction...
(You can't see it, but I'm furiously batting my eyelashes here - and I'm not too proud to pout...)