Annoyed

4:45 a.m. mid-December, 2013 the horrible sound of the dreaded alarm clock is the most annoying sound on the planet. At this point everything is annoying and putting my feet on the floor to start another day is the last thing I want to do. I hit snooze once, twice then three times. That nine minutes between chimes is just what I need to be even more annoyed. My 15 year old dog prances her nails on the hard floor back and forth until I get up to take her out. Click, click, click. Back and forth. So annoying. I love her but at this moment I hate her for making me remove the warm blanket and get out of my safe place. How long before I can get back in this bed and forget the world around me?  How many times today is someone going to say "How ARE You" in their most sincere tone? How many times today am I going to be reminded by the decorations, music, lights and excitement of my kids that it's the fabulous, long awaited Holiday season when everyone is happy and families are together? How many times am I going to feel that invisible punch in my gut, that emptiness? My body aches. My head throbs. My eyes burn. My heart feels like it weighs 100 pounds and it physically hurts with every beat. How many more days until this Most Wonderful Time of the year is over?

I muster up enough energy to walk to the front door to let the dogs out. It's cold outside. Another thing to add to my annoying list. Walk in the bathroom and look at an empty shell of a person looking back at me. When did this happen? When did I develop bags under my eyes and puffy eye lids? When did I become so easily annoyed? I muster up a little more energy to shower and get dressed to go spend the next 8 hours at a job that I hate. Ungrateful. When did I become so ungrateful? When did I become this bitter, angry shell of a person? I hate her. I hate the way she feels, the way she doesn't feel, the way she looks, the way she doesn't find joy in the simple things in life that once made her want to be around people. Isolation has become her new best friend.

I turn the light on in my boys' bedroom. Their faces barely peak out from under the blanket. I stand there and stare at these two precious faces that need me. They need me to bury the annoyances of life, put on my happy face and take care of them. I walk over and sit on the edge of the bed, reach down and touch them both, tears streaming down my face. Lean over and kiss them both on the forehead. Four little brown eyes open. My six year old says "What's Wrong, Mommy". My heavy heart is gone and I say "I'm Just So Thankful To Be Your Mommy".