One step forward, two steps back
Why is it that shit always happens at ones? Why do I feel like a fat pig, want to pull a sack over my head and pretend I’m not there? Alternatively commit hara-kiri and die an honourable death. PMS seems like a mild term to describing female neurosis compared to the monster that is raging in my war torn psyche.
My original mission, to grow, become a better person and achieve something in my utterly pointless life, is taking a new direction and instead of growing I am diminishing. Two steps forward, one step back, is becoming the reversed and so I descend deeper and deeper to my own personal underworld. When someone called me a “kut wijf” today (freely translated to cunt), I couldn’t hold it in any longer as I pointed out, in front of some amused mixed with horror looking weekend shoppers, that he should “keep his ugly little mouth shut”. Luckily I didn’t descend to his level, but I was fuming and the rest of the afternoon was cloaked in darkness, enveloping my mood.
When I came home, still angry, I found out that my wallet was missing. I’ve been searching high and low but no results. I’ve called my boss, and his mum is going to look for it as I might have forgotten it at the office. I am now waiting for that call…
But there is more. I’m frustrated, angry by certain events taking place recently. I question things, loyalty, friendship, love…
Even my own feelings towards my family. I see no love in my actions lately. They are instead mechanical, performed without passion or care. Rage, mixed with contempt….
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I pause for a while….still waiting for that call. I feel somewhat better. Writing things, however provocative and crazy, which apparently will increase my chances of loosing job, kids and husband according to statistics, makes it feel so much better. Fuck it. I am who I am. Take it or leave it. And in the spirit of my heroine Scarlett O’Hara….Tomorrow is another day!
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