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Jul. 5th, 2002 07:47 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sereneIt's quiet here today. The company our department does work for took a four-day weekend, so we're sitting here without much to do but catch up on things. I'll take this time to do some reading and writing, I think.
Didn't bring my novel (Here on Earth, Alice Hoffman), but that's okay. It's fairly dull, though sometimes lyrical.
Today is the day I focus on getting health stuff done. Call my doc and get a prescription for The Pill (to regulate my periods); make dental and vision appointments -- since I've got insurance, I should use it; call the chiropractor, apologize for missing Wednesday's appointment, make one for next week.
Instead of spending yesterday in a peaceful fog of first-day-off-in-forever happiness, updating my website and/or reading and/or sleeping and/or doing laundry, I spent it in mild aggravation. When I woke up, cute-poet-chick was in a mood. I could tell. As usual, I asked her if everything was okay. As usual, she said yes. I could tell it wasn't, so I asked if she was sure. She said yes. Then, as is also fairly usual, she waited a few minutes and began to pick a fight. She was frustrated about the clutter in the pantry. She said it took up a lot of space but didn't hold much. I said it would be cool to have a whole new piece of furniture there. She snapped back that we've already gotten rid of a lot of her stuff. That's when I could tell there was a fight brewing, and I didn't have the energy for it, so I left the room. Later, she came in and said she was sorry, and that she wanted help at some point figuring out where to put things. I didn't make eye contact, said okay, kept reading my book. She went back in the living room, but when I went out there, she went into the bedroom to read. I spent a couple of hours in a foul mood, reorganizing the pantry, making food for myself, and baking bread. We never reconnected yesterday, though I pulled her to me for a hug when she woke up.
It often feels like it's my job to make her feel better when she's down/frustrated/upset, and some days I just don't want to. I want her to be happy on her own. It takes a lot of energy to constantly tell her that the little things will work out, then have her come back with why they won't, and back and forth and back and forth. I don't know what the answer is. I wish I did. I know I love her even when she's in a crappy mood; I don't require her to be happy all the time. But it seems like she's unhappy a lot of the time, more than I sometimes have the energy to deal with, especially since her moods affect me so. In the airport, both heading out to Lexington and coming back, it was all I could do to keep up my cheerfulness with her getting so upset she almost quit more than once. On the way there, I just wanted to shake her and say, "Listen, I'm in a lot of pain here and I'm managing, so just grow up, keep your mouth shut, and keep walking." On the way back, she snapped at me and I let myself get annoyed and tell her that I was upset with her for not being cheerful when it was taking me a lot of energy to remain so.
I feel immature for caring what her mood is. It affects me, though, and I'm nearly to the point where I want to give up even trying to be pleasant around her when she's in one of her (increasingly frequent) funks. *sigh*
Didn't bring my novel (Here on Earth, Alice Hoffman), but that's okay. It's fairly dull, though sometimes lyrical.
Today is the day I focus on getting health stuff done. Call my doc and get a prescription for The Pill (to regulate my periods); make dental and vision appointments -- since I've got insurance, I should use it; call the chiropractor, apologize for missing Wednesday's appointment, make one for next week.
Instead of spending yesterday in a peaceful fog of first-day-off-in-forever happiness, updating my website and/or reading and/or sleeping and/or doing laundry, I spent it in mild aggravation. When I woke up, cute-poet-chick was in a mood. I could tell. As usual, I asked her if everything was okay. As usual, she said yes. I could tell it wasn't, so I asked if she was sure. She said yes. Then, as is also fairly usual, she waited a few minutes and began to pick a fight. She was frustrated about the clutter in the pantry. She said it took up a lot of space but didn't hold much. I said it would be cool to have a whole new piece of furniture there. She snapped back that we've already gotten rid of a lot of her stuff. That's when I could tell there was a fight brewing, and I didn't have the energy for it, so I left the room. Later, she came in and said she was sorry, and that she wanted help at some point figuring out where to put things. I didn't make eye contact, said okay, kept reading my book. She went back in the living room, but when I went out there, she went into the bedroom to read. I spent a couple of hours in a foul mood, reorganizing the pantry, making food for myself, and baking bread. We never reconnected yesterday, though I pulled her to me for a hug when she woke up.
It often feels like it's my job to make her feel better when she's down/frustrated/upset, and some days I just don't want to. I want her to be happy on her own. It takes a lot of energy to constantly tell her that the little things will work out, then have her come back with why they won't, and back and forth and back and forth. I don't know what the answer is. I wish I did. I know I love her even when she's in a crappy mood; I don't require her to be happy all the time. But it seems like she's unhappy a lot of the time, more than I sometimes have the energy to deal with, especially since her moods affect me so. In the airport, both heading out to Lexington and coming back, it was all I could do to keep up my cheerfulness with her getting so upset she almost quit more than once. On the way there, I just wanted to shake her and say, "Listen, I'm in a lot of pain here and I'm managing, so just grow up, keep your mouth shut, and keep walking." On the way back, she snapped at me and I let myself get annoyed and tell her that I was upset with her for not being cheerful when it was taking me a lot of energy to remain so.
I feel immature for caring what her mood is. It affects me, though, and I'm nearly to the point where I want to give up even trying to be pleasant around her when she's in one of her (increasingly frequent) funks. *sigh*