breathe, just breathe

it’s 10 am on the week before christmas and i just want to scream out loud. i don’t belong here right now, my to-do list is sitting here mocking me with things yet to buy, pick-up or complete by days end. instead i sit here and attempt to complete some insane, inane things at work and i am wondering why i am here and not there, and how i got this far behind?

my frustration is growing -- growing pissed at the season, at work, at my family – grrrr. and i still don’t understand why i am so grrrr lately.

breathe, just breathe.

the simplest things are setting me off – a coworkers glib “you’ll get it on friday” comment when he knows i won’t be in on friday caused me to seriously contemplate standing up, grabbing his neck in my hands and twisting it loose from his shoulders. allie mcbeal would have been proud of my dream sequence, it would have ranked with the best of hers on her television show. and the fact that he was referring to my christmas present, well, that just made me want to cry.

breathe, just breathe.

in fact, everything makes me want to cry this week. the charities that keep hitting me up for money, the abused animals in need, the families without heat or food or gifts. the world is a sad sad place and the fact charities play sucker bets with busy souls like myself who may not be totally insensitive, but are removed from knowing what is going on in the world, well, that just makes me want to cry to. here, just take my money, alright. you’re worse than a pick-pocket. i would slug a pick-pocket who attempts to mug me and take my money. a charity hits me up and i’m reaching for kleenex and my wallet.

breathe, just breathe.

i’m not a crier. grrr-like riot girl, yes. bitchy? hell ya. crier? not on your life. except when i’m pms-ing. oh sweet plastic jesus tucked in a dog-house manger left out on the front lawn! i’m pms-ing at christmas. family-togetherness has never been so frightening a concept except when i’m getting ready to rag as mam calls it.

breathe, just breathe.

now, another all-spirited-up-for-the-holiday-coworker approaches me with a tin of home-made baked cookies, peanut butter chip snickerdoodles with a hershey’s kiss on top. oh, wait, is that a peanut butter-filled hershey’s kiss? how the hell can i say no to a pms-blessing in disguise? chocolate and peanut-butter makes everything better. the bigger question is how can i keep my face out of the tin and save any for my other coworkers who pass and say they’ll wait until after lunch to take one. lunch is hours away right now. “gimme chocolate now!” screams the pms-bitch lurking inside me. “there may not be any left after lunch for you sniveling, i’ll-get-it-to-you-on-friday coworker. mwah-hah-ha-ha!” yes, sometimes pms-bitch scares me, too.

breathe, just breathe.

which is why this christmas season is killing me. i’m a scrooge under the best of circumstances, a fault i believe acquired while working in a mall in the christmas season. any addition of a hormonal imbalance and family dysfunction just adds more fuel to my growing fire.

i just gotta make it through the next few days alive. a thought i’m sure mam is praying for these days too. as long as i just breathe and only threatento jack anyone with chocolate and peanut butter in a 5-mile radius, i'll be alright.

drop the cookie, beeyatch.