I forget things. LOTS of things. I don't call or write. I cancel get-togethers at the last minute. I am late. I suck at hiding when I'm cranky, tired, or hungry, and those things turn me into a fairly inconsiderate and short-tempered person. I may actually be that inconsiderate and short-tempered person all of the time.
When I get depressed, which I have a history of doing, I close up like a miserly clam and hide in the sand, no pearl in the making. I am a terrible conversationalist, because I have nothing to talk about except my kids. The last time I read a book? Let's just say since Kella was born, me and literature aren't friends either.
I get offended. Not too easily, but sometimes. Though I try not to hold grudges, I also tend to avoid whoever I find offensive. Worse, when I've offended someone I tend to avoid them, too. I offend people often, since I am such a flexible person I can't seem to keep my foot OUT of my mouth.
I am unreliable. Because of the forgetfulness, but also because of the procrastination and occasionally because of the depression.
All of this and the normal human struggles of selfishness, greed, anger, sloth - how is it that anyone can stand spending time with me?
I would say I'm just looking at the dark side of things (and you might, too), but every single one of these things has bothered me about myself in the last week. Except the depression. Prozac and I are doing well together. And though I've tried my best not to be that lady, I have clearly failed.
Sorry world! And next time I get irritated with someone else, just remind me that I'm not such a peach either.