Mad

Today I'm just mad. Spitfire mad. Mad that sorting laundry throws me into a catatonic state. Mad that my children's efforts to clean bathrooms elicit criticism instead of praise. Mad that the thought of fixing dinner is paralyzing. Mad that I have an aversion to shopping. Mad that any unexpected or unintended conversation with another person who doesn't know what I'm experiencing forces me to pretend yet again that I am the same person I was two weeks ago. Mad that I have to see a counselor and even madder that I know how desperately I need it. Mad that running now is an escape instead of simply exercise. Mad that every morning I have to wake up and relive the horror again, wishing against everything I know that somehow this is all just a terrible dream. Mad that I have to figure out all over again who I really am, when I thought I always knew. Mad that I know how the anger is poisoning me. Mad that I realize how much I need to forgive my husband for MY sake and SO mad that it seems so utterly impossible for me to forgive without complete trust again. Mad that the trust I have given so completely and freely for my entire life is something I have to guard, hide, and dole out in miserly selfish portions. SO MAD.