I’ve found that it’s easiest to be frustrated with change when it’s disappointing.
I had, like everyone does, a picture of what I expected from my life at whatever point. This point. Three years from now.
I wouldn’t be upset if, say, I were a millionaire this time next year. That’s not in my plan, but I think I could handle it.
(On a completely separate note, I’m watching the State of the Union and DAMN MY PRESIDENT HAS BALLS. Just saying.)
It’s when things go wrong that I don’t handle things well.
When there’s less money than I need.
When a little girl looks at me to make it feel better and I can’t.
When I’m presented with a fourth grade math problem and I have no clue ho to begin it.
When the house looks like a cotillion of hobos took it over the night before.
I know I sound like a whiny brat. A pampered little simp. I suppose I am, but that doesn’t change the fact that sometimes I am totally at a loss. A loss of drive and fervor, a loss of confidence and security.
I suppose I need to buck up. Have a backbone.
I’m working on it.