Friday, August 17, 2007

Getting Twisted

Something's been bothering me lately. I find myself getting twisted over the littlest things. It makes me feel like a really unpleasant person to be around.

I left the office yesterday to head to the airport. Two hours later, we finally arrived at said airport. The traffic nearly made me crazy. So the twisting began. Keep in mind that I think I spent more time in traffic than I did in training, so this had been building all week. And luckily, Friday was Indonesia's Indepedence Day. Have you tried to get out of Houston on Fourth of July weekend? Take that times 1,000.

Then, I got to the airport check in line. There were two parties in front of me. Fifteen minutes later, I'm in the same place. I check the desks. Yes, all the desks have a customer service rep. Yet, we are not moving. They are all just sitting there. Maybe it's a computer problem. And here's where I know that I'm become a total bitch. See, at this point in time, I couldn't give a rat's ass about the computer problem. Maybe if you caught me at another time, I don't know. Sometimes this stuff doesn't bug me at all. But other times it's all I can do to not cause a scene and end up in airport security. I imagine it's not a pleasant place to me. All I know is that I'm in work clothes in an airport that has virtually no air conditioning. Move the fucking line. It's all about efficiency, folks. And the twisting continues.

So, I finally make it through the line and got to customs. Short line I observe, thankfully. Until the customs officer in the line that I chose to stand in seems to want to read through the couple in front of me's entire passports, and then discuss the next Harry Potter book's plotlines. MOVE. So I switch lines, which is never a good idea, but I just can't help myself. I have an uncanny knack for picking the slowest moving grocery/immigration/entry/check in line. As I move, another line becomes open next to me, so I try to get the guy's attention who is in that line. He finally he looks at me and I utter the only words I can politely say at this time. I motion to the empty line and say:


For the love of God, just go so that I have a chance to get through the line before midnight. Karma is busily chowing down on my ass.

I finally get through customs and breathe a sigh of relief.

See, I get twisted lately. The smallest things will, in my mind, build up to the point where I will, for example, exclaim "Well, for fucks sake!" to the poor Continental Airlines counter clerk when my flight is delayed (as is what happened in Austin a few weeks ago).

This is not healthy. Nor polite, which kills me more than you would know.

I could say that this is because we are living overseas. But we've been here damn near a year. I could say that this is because I've lowered my Lexapro to a pitiful 5mg a day. It's the stress. It's being a newlywed. It's work. There are lots of excuses for the fact that I get twisted over the tiniest things.

But the thing that scares me the most is that, maybe it's not the living situation. Maybe it's not the travel. Maybe it's not.......fill in the blank here.

Maybe I've just become a total bitch.

I'm well versed in the ways of chronic mild depression (which in my mind, is simply the result being too self reflective for my own good, coupled with the genetic predisposition to depression, which makes me truly unpleasant at times). I'm also very familiar with GAD (generalized anxiety disorder) which plagues all the women in my family. I think it's a result of good ole' genetic Catholic guilt gone awry when combined with the white-bread Methodist background of my father.

I've suffered from GAD and depression since I hit my teens. It's easy when you are plagued with these particular ailments to blame everything on them. But I've finally gotten to the point where I think I know myself well enough to, well, know myself. And so because of my supposed self-awareness, I think I should be able to rise above this. As I've always said "The first step is understanding the root cause. The issue. Only then can you take the necessary steps to correct them."

Only, the problem is, I know my issues. But I can't seem to change my reactions.

I just feel that I'm spending a lot of my time here pissed off about one thing or another. And I just despise that. It makes me feel terribly ungrateful. But I can't help my reactions. Logically, I know that we have an unbelievable opportunity. Plus, I get to keep working, even though M's job is really the one that moved us here. So, ungrateful = guilty. Plus, the one person who understands my frustrations is M, but I worry about sharing my frustrations with him, because then he feels guilty. Like it's his fault, or rather his job's fault. But I encouraged him to take this job. So it's an endless cycle of me reassuring him, and him reassuring me.

So I'm going to assume that this is just work travel hangover. There are so many things we enjoy here.

If I could only get over myself and appreciate them.

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At August 21, 2007 at 5:25 PM , Anonymous reese said...

hmm. I can relate to a lot (and hell, I've only been here a week).

Let's get some wine, eh?

At August 21, 2007 at 6:25 PM , Blogger Sarah said...

Wine sounds good. I'll email you...


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