Wednesday, March 27, 2013
I'm a rageaholic. I'm addicted to rageahol.
I have become The Incredible Glow-Hulk. Or Glulk, if you will. I know, it sounds pretty shit, but Ima run with it. Run with it as far as a crappy photoshop job complete with sea-sick green wash and popping veins will take me.
Last pregnancy I was earth mother. Well, as earth mother as I can get. I'd never felt calmer or more secure in myself. I even managed to come completely off medications that had gotten me through what I like to deem the "straight jacket years". It was all rose coloured glasses& chirping birds on window sills, not unlike a scene from a Disney movie.
This pregnancy could not be further from that. Earth mother? Hell no. Rage mother is more like it. My default emotion right now is anger. Pure, bubbling, oh-the-injustice, how-dare-you anger!
Everything, EVERYTHING, is making me angry.
Take for example the age old phenomenon of males leaving the toilet seat up. This has never annoyed me before - I'm of the opinion that if we both use the facilities why must it be left how I like it? What makes me so special that I can't put it down? But a few nights ago, when I unceremoniously fell in to the toilet in the middle of the night, I was ready to declare war and the words I muttered under my breath to describe MG's actions were, well, colorful to say the least.
It doesn't matter how tiny the issue is, I'll be cranky.
Shops due to open at 9am and according to my no doubt fast watch they didn't open til 9:01.... UNACCEPTABLE! RAGE!!! WHERE IS THE COMPLAINT FORM?!
Leftovers eaten by someone else even though I hadn't declared I wanted them? OFF WITH HIS HEAD!!! THAT WAS MY FUCKING PIZZA!!
Stub my toe on a shoe that I have left in the way? THE WORLD IS AT FAULT! ALL SHOES IN THE BIN!!
The rose coloured glasses have been smashed under foot for their mocking rosiness. The birds on the windowsill, clever little bastards that they are, are long gone, no doubt fearful I would fashion a ging out of some bobby pins and hair elastics MacGyver style, and take them out one by one.
As much as I can see it happening and am trying my hardest to control it (by swearing on the inside and developing facial tics), Poor MapGuy is suffering. From his proximity, he is the one who has witnessed this more than anyone. And by witness I obviously mean felt the brunt of.
It truly is one of the most unattractive of things to see your preggo wife stroke her swelling bump then look up, shoot daggers and say "stop doing that or I will cut you".
At times like this I find it helpful to remember the positives... that I am not an elephant and this state will not last for two years, merely another four and a half months.
Were you a rageaholic when up the duff? How did you stop from killing people?