Full o' Anxiety and uber-personal Fug

Lately, between some personal stuff, and 'the company', I've been filled with a huge amount of anxiety. Heart-pounding, bursting into tears, please-don't-make-me-go-there-anxiety and general ickiness.

And, honestly, I think it's the company's fault. It's not the job, it's the politics surrounding the job.

It's not that I'm unhappy when I'm actually at work, it's the work meetings, the email, the things around my job that suck the life out of me.

That, and, frankly, I won't be going to a sheep-type-wool-festival thingy that I have been planning on going to for a few months now.

And, frankly, I'm not going because one of my bosses, someone who is 'more important', wants to go on a ten-day vacation. And, so, I'm fucked.

The boiling anger I feel as I write this is overwhelming.

It's such a small thing, that weekend that I want, and yet, when it's taken away, it becomes impossible for me to wish the boss, and the girlfriend of the boss well on their vacation, and then, that causes problems for me and Dr. Al, 'cause the girlfriend of the boss is his good friend, and a friend of mine as well. And, like I should at least be able to say, "Have a good time!", but I can't because my throat becomes clogged with resentment.

What I really want to say is,

"Thanks for fucking me. I hope you get scabies!"

or

"Really, have a good time...don't let my wishes for your everlasting unhappiness screw anything up!"

or, last, and possibly most honest.

"Hey, I resent you, 'cause it seems that your happiness is more important than mine! I'll get over it, but I feel like you owe me an apology, even though you have no idea I feel this way, 'cause I'm emotionally dysfunctional!"

I hate that. I hate that when I try to express this stuff to Dr. Al, it gets all clogged up in other issues, and that in general, I just want to whine like a two year old,and yell, and stomp my feet,

"It's not fair! Everybody else gets to have a good time...and I can't because of...."

What? That's not super-annoying?

Uh, yeah. And I don't think it's cool, so I'm trying to keep a lid on this shit, and not dwell on it, and frankly pretend that, like I'm not resenting it

EVERY SECOND OF EVERY DAY SINCE I'VE HEARD ABOUT IT.

yup. every second.

It's the background to everything I've done since about, oh...Saturday.
And, even though it seems like I've just been hanging out, and going to my other job, and reading books and knitting, and like, hanging out having quality time with Dr. Al, it's the voice, the whisper of my discontent.

So, I'm trying to knit. And I'm trying to spin, 'cause next Saturday, I'm supposedly going to go to the alternative crafts fair and sell yarn, and I'm trying to just put one foot in front of the other, but honestly, it feels like this is the straw that broke the camel's back.

I'm trying to see the cool black tulips in the backyard, and I'm trying to think about little things that used to give me pleasure, and I'm trying to listen when my friends talk, and be effective whilst I work, and I'm trying to do all those things, but honestly? I'm faking it.

The upside of faking it is that I know that this will pass. These bad feelings and general angst will be over, and this will be a distant memory, but all those things,
our garden, our friends, my knitting and spinning, my jobs, those will all still be there, because most of this bullshit will pass...bullshit is transitory, I tell myself, just keep putting one foot in front of the other, and you will walk out the other side.

but seriously, universe?

Fug you.