Wrong side of bed

 For the past two days I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, as the saying goes.

Or, more accurately, I didn't really sleep at all, so I tossed and turned on the wrong side of bed, or something like that. But whatever you call it, I'm crabby.

It started with feeling behind at work, so overwhelmed that I barely know how to dig myself out of the hole. (Hint: writing this instead of grading might not help with that problem.) It continued with a sequence of irritating small things: tracking in leaves all over the house last night before I realized it, leaving their crunched up bits all over the floor; having to go to three grocery stores in order to find the necessary ingredients; deciding to treat myself at the taco truck (because after two grocery stores I went from hungry to REALLY hungry) only to realize that they didn't have vegetarian options; making myself a cup of tea and having the teabag burst open, leaving me with murky tea leaves in my "soothing" drink. I sent Tessa a package of holiday decor - lovingly chosen and boxed up so that she and her roommate could have a festive Christmas environment - and she didn't even bother to pick up the package or write me back.

None of it is the end of the world, and I know that. Maybe it's the fatigue from not being able to sleep? But whatever it is...

I'm crabby.

I'm fighting it, though.

I cleaned up my desk, recycling unneeded papers, getting my paperwork that needs to be dealt with in order. I went easy on myself for tomorrow's lessons, creating something that isn't too painful. I captured my holiday schedule in a single document (and realized that I HAVE A LOT GOING ON!). I told my morning besties chain (Susan and Carolyn) that I was crabby, and accepted their loving grace. I created a plan to tackle the grading, with goals for end of day that will make me feel better.

I wore a professional blazer over black slacks and blouse, with my witchy boots and earrings (sun/moon combos with quartz crystals, my favorite), and I'm calling it my power outfit. I have a stone from Lowman Beach in my pocket, and I'm going to go there after work before I settle in to baking, to breathe the sea and to return the stone and choose a new one. 

And then two kids sent me nice notes, unsolicited. That was nice.

I put up a poem that inspires me where I can see it near my desk.

I had a snack (dark chocolate covered pistachios).

Today I had no energy to make healthy lunch, but I freeze soup when I make it, and so I defrosted a jar of it, and I have a hot thermos of soup awaiting me for lunch, filled with veggie goodness, made on a day when I had more energy and had my act together. A pink lady apple will round it out.

And I'm being gentle with myself by coming here to breathe, to write it all out so that I can remember that sometimes it's okay to be crabby.

I wonder if some of it is the holidays upon us - my family is a source of pain for me, and it's a family season, so I can't help but notice it. Or maybe it's being single in a time when it's all Hallmark romance and friends with partners they can't wait to hang out with. Or maybe it's my class overage, or maybe it's the being thrown off kilter from the windstorm and all its disruptions, or maybe it's the dark side of menopause, or maybe I just need a nap.

But whatever it is, I'm going to push back... gently.

Power clothes.

Hot soup.

Tea.

Finishing some low hanging fruit at work.

Music.

And after work, I will go to the beach and remember to breathe with the waves. In, out; in, out. I can hear the gentle tumble of the pebbles in my mind now, breathe in the smell of salt and cedar.

I will make the cranberry bread that I love, in preparation to eat but also to share with the people that I love. I will write my daughter a welcome home note to leave on her pillow, in case she gets home tomorrow before I do, and remember how much I love her.

I'll drink lots of water (I don't think I did that yesterday!).

I'll read before bed, and I'll stay off the news.

It's not a REAL bad day - no death or disaster. I know the difference. And maybe it's in my power to change it, or maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and it will just feel different. I know that it will pass, and just thinking about that makes my shoulders fall a little.

In, out. In, out. I can't wait to be by the sea.