Mad

I am mad.

Well ok. Yes, we all know I am crazy / mad… but that’s beside the point.

Today, and for the last several days, I’ve been angry / mad; like peeved off at the world and all the annoying people in it / mad; like how can there be this many stupid people in the world? / mad; like why am I still stuck here with these people instead of getting on with my new life? / mad.

Firstly, I’m mad about the big stuff…

I’m mad at my life and how much I have seen myself changed. I’m mad that somewhere in there, I lost myself. I’m mad that it took so much time and energy to find myself again. I’m mad that I’m still so lost, even after all that.

I’m mad that all these changes feel so scary. I’m mad that I’m not stronger in facing them. I’m mad for being weak. I’m mad that I am so afraid of being weak. I’m mad that that makes me weak.

I’m mad that they don’t understand my reasons for these changes. I’m mad at their criticisms and concerns. I’m mad that they think I’m moving backwards. I’m mad that a tiny part of me wonders if they are right. I’m mad at my own weakness in questioning myself.

I’m mad at my job. I’m mad that it provoked such panic. I’m mad that I let it. I’m mad at how empty it left me. I’m mad that I ever imagined myself satisfied in this environment. I’m mad every time I question whether leaving is the right decision. I’m mad that it took me this long to realize I need to leave.

I’m mad at my computer. Oh man, am I mad at my computer. I’m mad every time I have to restart this damn thing. I’m mad that it loses all my open tabs every time. I’m mad when it runs so incredibly slow, or needs another software update every 5 minutes. I’m mad that I can’t be more patient. I’m mad that I’m taking for granted this actually very nice MacBook computer, which work gave to me for free!

I’m mad that it didn’t work out with him. I’m mad that I finally found this incredible, indescribable, incomparable connection – and it was with someone who had no idea how to be with me, despite his wanting to be. I’m mad at how I’ve handled the others that have come around since. I’m mad (and confused) at how they want me. I’m mad that I don’t ever want them. I’m mad that it never seems to work out. I’m mad that that’s likely largely my fault.

I’m mad that everyone else around me seems to have someone. I’m mad that I’m still alone. I’m mad that that makes me feel alone. I’m mad that I pretty much always have been alone. I’m mad that I’ve mainly kept myself that way. I’m mad that I’m afraid I’ll end up this way. I’m mad for entertaining the idea that I need anyone anyway.

Then I’m also mad about the small stuff…

I’m mad at the appallingly bad drivers in the Bay Area. I’m mad each time someone forgets to signal a lane change, or cuts me off, or drives excessively slow. I’m mad when they break unnecessarily in bumper-to-bumper traffic. I’m mad to think I was ever that bad a driver. I’m mad that I’m an Asian woman, and therefore stereotyped as a bad driver. I’m mad that my one stupid accident is coming back to bite me in the ass, two years later! I’m mad that this is probably going to haunt me forever.

I’m mad at how terrible that massage was today. I’m mad that he thought it was a good idea to just hit my back several times and rub my skin till it hurt, and then call it a massage. I’m mad that he had the gall to charge me money for that. I’m mad that I paid him. I’m mad that I’m complaining about a massage, which I got during work hours, at discount. I’m mad that this makes me feel like I’m acting entitled.

I’m mad at all the seriously entitled people at work. I’m mad at having to tiptoe through the tulips with these people. I’m mad to think I was ever like them. I’m mad to think I sometimes still can be. I’m mad that I can’t be sure until I get away. I’m mad that I can’t get away fast enough.

My god, I am mad at literally everything. And now I’m mad that I’m mad. It’s a never-ending, vicious cycle.

And the process it took to write all this out, though much needed, also lead to my first panic attack in two months. So now the anger, or madness if you will, has transformed into something even worse: confusion.

It’s not enough that I’m mad and sad and terrified. Let’s throw confused into the mix! Let’s add complete bewilderment about my present situation and my future. Let’s leave me totally flummoxed about what I think, what I’m doing, and just who I am in general. Let’s question every genuine thing I thought I’d found, and blur the lines between real and surreal.

Ah yes, and there’s the crazy / mad part I was telling you about. You see? It all comes right round full circle. And boy does that make me mad!