What the hell is going on?

I've heard of having the winter blues, but it's springtime!

Really!

The equinox was a couple of days ago. Didn't you know?

Several of the posts I've been reading lately have to do with the stress of the day/month/season/year. Here's the proof:

"The past couple of days I have been having the Spring Break Blues!"

"STRESSSTRESSSTRESSSTRESSSTRESS (and on into infinity) "

"Okay, okay...so I've been a tad distant lately."

"I've been too melancholy/weirdly needy lately to participate in a healthy social encounter"

"I probably shouldn't even be posting because I'm still in my funk which means I'm even more apathetic and shrewd than usual.."

I only bring this up because I am in the SAME boat. Last night I nearly bit Rich's head off because I was pissed that Subway was out of vegetables! I held my head and irrationally sobbed because I had no spinach on my 6 inch wheat.

Then I went to bed at 7:00.

That'll show those veggie stingy sandwich bastards!

Christine told me earlier this week (after she kindly tolerated an overreaction rant from me over something embarrassingly minuscule) that sometimes the last straw is the friggin' LAST straw. In other words, these stupid little stresses build and build and build until we can't take anything anymore. The metaphorical cup runneth over. Or in this case, the super sized tankard full of steaming shit drowneth all of the sweet baby animals that gathereth around f-ing Cinderella. (Angry much?)

Anyway, I'm not sure why this particular spring seems to be filled with such anxiety and stress, though I do feel it all around me. I haven't even been able to stomach the idea of going outside to my garden retreat this week since the weeding I need to do makes me want to crawl inside of said stomach to decompose in my own putrid acids. (Because somehow I think that being burned alive in my own stomach juices would be better than actually pulling the weeds. (?))

I don't know. Maybe it's that my ridiculously stressful and increasingly unmanageable job contradicts the fact that I LOVE it and want to be the best I can be at it (and then am gutted when the kids don't respond in the "right" way, or when they decide to compromise their integrity for a decent grade, or when the lesson doesn't go according to the plan, or when they flat out call me a bitch). Maybe it's the state of the world or politics. Maybe it's that I can't get away from the paradox of me: who I am is not who I want to be and who I want to be is someone who knows how to alleviate all of this. Maybe it's tornado season, or finances, or responsibility, or adulthood in general. Maybe it's nothing at all. And maybe it's everything at the same time.

Whatever it is, I'm NOT a fan.

So I'll stay away from Sylvia Plath, Kate Chopin, and all Russian literature this week-end.

Blech.