Moodiness runs in my family.
(as I predictably start with the required blaming-my-mother-for-everything strategy)
But seriously. It’s what I couldn’t stand about my mom while I was growing up – one thing would set her off into a tailspin of brooding and sulkiness, a dark cloud of pissed off hanging over her wherever she went, until eventually after a day or two it wore off. There was no penetrating the thick shield of grumpiness that shrouded her, so I knew when I just had to wait it out until the sting of whatever had hit her wore off.
Whether by nurture or nature, I was pretty much the same as a kid. I can’t tell you how many times relatives would just look at me and say, “Gee, A., smile, would you??” I was probably deeply immersed in sulking about how my mom wouldn’t buy me the new Malibu Barbie Dream Spa. When I got poked and prodded in this way, I felt I was being forced to be happy, and it pissed me off even more. No doubt these people were all plotting to make my life unbearably miserable, and as I figured it, they won.
My sister, born 11 years after me, wasn’t much different. In fact, I think she left the womb in a bad mood. She cried nonstop, and once she was a toddler she screamed bloody murder when she didn’t get her way. Hers was more a pissed-off-bitchy bad mood, whereas my mom and I carry the deep, dark depressed bad mood torch. We’re a pleasant family, really.
So I suppose it’s fitting that around age 29 or 30 we start to see more clearly how we really are just like our mothers, and it scares the shit out of us. We spent our 20’s believing it never happened, and never will, and the sting of denial still hurts. Perhaps our 40’s will be about realizing that we are our just like the good parts of our mothers – one can only hope.
Whoever made up the phrase “woke up on the wrong side of the bed” knew just what he was talking about. Some days feel just like that for me. And I just. can’t. get. out. of. it. It’s an on-going issue, but only surfaces in spurts (please don’t suggest therapy, I’m just not interested). But lately something about the complicatedness of my life – call it maturity – is making me realize I just can’t afford to be in a bad mood. Not like this. Not when I’m blessed to have E., Mr. E. and everyone else in my family and friends – and not when I have to be strong for my mom while cancer is busy kicking her ass. It’s just being bratty, and I’m waaaay too old for that.
I felt this way this morning – I mean the wrong-side-of-the-bed kinda feeling, and I brooded for a bit. Then I realized a day of brooding just makes me feel worse. So I decided I needed to kick my bad mood’s ASS. I can’t explain how I do this, I just know that the phrase explains exactly what it feels like -an inner struggle with me as the winner. And I feel better. Much better.
There. Now I’ll hand you all $70 for my virtual therapy session.