Actually, every day I might be cranky…it’s just a matter of how much strength I have to overcome that and tell my crankiness it doesn’t get to win, not today.
But today, cranky wins. I don’t even have the strength to fight it. Today, I invite cranky in for tea and he gets comfortable on the couch, takes his shoes off and before we know it it’s “what do you want on your pizza?” and “should we get a movie?”
I’m the kind of cranky that sits in front of my laptop and internally argues with every work-related email that comes in. “Oh REALLY, Adam? You comment on that issue and now I’m getting an email update telling me that you commented? I don’t care. I’m not even going to READ your comment. Deleted.”
“Oh, Tina is coming up to the conference room at 1pm? IS SHE?! IS SHE REALLY?? I’ll be sure to NOTIFY THE PRESS”
I’m the kind of cranky that eats an “everything” bagel for lunch and decides NOT to use mouthwash or chew gum afterwards. Don’t get near me, World. There was ONION on that bagel. You’ll be sorry, but I’m not.
This kind of cranky leads to a dangerous place. Misery loves company and when crankiness is allowed to get comfortable, he invites bitterness. This kind of cranky leads to thoughts that are not true or valid or warranted. Thoughts of bitterness that I have to give up my job (and really the ability to have any type of steady career with inevitable moves every three years). Thoughts of anger and sadness and fear about how hard it will be to transition into life in a foreign country without any friends. Thoughts that have no target but are trying to figure out where (or towards whom) they should be aimed.
Writing is place for me to process and chronicle and share and exaggerate and try to be funny. But it’s also a safe and honest place for me, and if nothing else, that’s why I share that today is plagued by tired, dark, ugly thoughts.
But if I’m being honest, I know that I don’t REALLY feel that way. I’m simply giving in to crankiness and allowing negativity to go one step farther than it should. I’m entertaining crankiness and he is not a good guest. I’m hearing lies that are born out of hunger or hormones or lack of sleep or the fact that I haven’t seen the sun in the four days I’ve been in Minneapolis, away from my husband and home cooked meals and my own bed.
Today, I just want to go home. And stay home. For more than a week at a time.
The one comfort I get out of all of THIS is that I’ve realized how much being with Z has become HOME to me. And with that knowledge, I feel more confident that I’ll be “ok” in Germany. Even if the transition is hard, even when I miss friends and family, even when I inevitably have more days like today… at least I’ll be home.