When we think of mood swings we usually imagine crazy hormonal women, oscillating between normal and nice, and raving mad (I just look in the mirror).
But (within reason) mood swings are part of finding balance. NO REALLY.
I came home from work the other night (my first work-night after a five day Easter long-weekend) and felt like this:
(that would be flat as an (old-fashioned) tack, as opposed to sharp as a tack – if only I’d been smart enough to take two days annual leave to extend my break!)
Work feels a bit like water torture at the moment (or so I imagine from my days of enforced garden hosing – see this post).
So I come home, moody and sick to the stomach with a system (that would be work and its intolerable processes) than seems to want to render you powerless – nothing personal, so I should stop taking it that way, and just take a bloody break instead!
I finish my first G&T before I even notice hubby has cleaned up and done the floors – bless him.
I check emails and see one from a writer’s agent celebrating published authors, one of whom (Patricia Barton) has written a new memoir: Why God hates me. Find myself coveting her title, even though God doesn’t hate, he only loves.
My love hate affair with work is another story – one I don’t need to bring home so much.
Hubby on the other hand deals with life and death (as a firefighter) – not often, but tragically too much.
Like the poor guy who was working on a car when it feel on top of him – he wasn’t found for a day or so and his passing wasn’t pretty (as if death ever is).
Hubby deals with death and all I have to handle is a bureaucracy that feels like it’s killing me!
The thing is, my bad mood from work is perfectly justifiable (although not helpful), just as gaining perspective from what hubby faces on the job, and what tragedies occur in life, is totally normal.
Had I let me bad mood prevail and not been prepared to welcome in perspective then I might have needed to give myself a ‘stiff uppercut’. As it is, I’m entitled to wince just a bit from the punch in the stomach that work seems to want to deliver, while also feeling extremely lucky to still be breathing.
I watch my girl dance (she must average at least 200+ flips, hand stands, pirouettes and walkovers per day) and find perspective (and pride, big time).
I feel my mood lift when I snuggle into my sleeping boy, who crashed it soon after I got home from work, grumpy (me), and will no doubt wake up grumpy (him), and maybe my mood will change again.
I reckon see-sawing is actually a legitimate way to find balance, just like wobbling.
So next time someone calls me a moody bitch (or more likely I label myself that), I can be confident that it’s OK, just as long as my good moods balance out the bad – as long as the seesaw lands on the side of pleasant and I apologize for my unpleasantness.
An even keel (excuse yet another cliché) still describes a moving vessel – you can rock the boat (sorry), just don’t tip it until it overturns.
And then this, this morning. Perspective.
Anzac Day Dawn Service, Surfers Paradise Beach.
How do you find ‘everyday’ perspective as moods swing and life see-saws?
Linking up with Grace for FYBF this Anzac Day. Lest we Forget.