Sometimes I find myself in a state of anxiety so intense that a spilled glass of juice before a family party can send me into a freak-out tantrum much too similar to those of my kids. For some reason, preparing my home for a party puts me into a spiral of feminine hysterics. My apologies to anyone who is unfortunate enough to be within my scope of destruction. The fact that I hosted 4 parties in under 3 weeks is obviously a huge issue. I have noted it and clarified to my poor husband that multiple parties and events within our home within a short period of time are NOT GOOD FOR ME. Or our family. I sounded like Kate Gosselin in her early years of ripping Jon to pieces for not helping enough, not asking enough, not anticipating every single emotion and situation enough...
It wasn't pretty, guys. Not at all.
Sigh... I've apologized with a lovely epilogue of "but's" to clarify my pitiful reasons for being a banshee wife.
I hate when I do that. Apologize with a BUT. I should be able to say "I'm sorry. No matter what the perceived triggers for my anxiety and attitude, I shouldn't treat you that way." I should be able to end the apology there.
But I ALWAYS seem to follow up with a but or a prettier version of a but:
"Maybe next time you can ask me what needs to be done before I get crazy?"
"I know you did a lot of work too, but if I'm still working and the kids aren't ready and you sit down to have a snack in front of the tv, it makes me feel anxious and that's why I freak out..."
That's nice. Place the blame for my own inability to control my emotions. Very adult.
It sucks when you realize ugly things about yourself, doesn't it?
Now I have to call him and apologize for real. Let's hope I don't have an explanatory sentence to follow it...
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