What I’m about to say might be a shock, so go ahead and make sure you brace yourself to keep your ass from tumbling onto the floor.
I love my life.
Whoa, say what? This coming from the madwoman who has a category named ‘ranty-pants’?
I live with some very unfortunate circumstances, but they aren’t the sum of my life. There’s so much more to it than that. Life can’t be easy all of the time and sometimes I think it’s way harder than it should be, but I adapt and overcome. I’ll figure out how to make this shit work or die trying!
One thing I’m most grateful for is how quiet things are most of the time. My house is generally a peaceful (excluding PMS and manstruation – men get PMS too.. I’m sure of it) place and I share it with the cool guy I promised to spend the rest of my life with.
There is a downside – we’re both introverts. Our space is ours and fuck other people. They’re noisy, strange and annoying humanoids. It takes us a while to settle back into a lifestyle with people who don’t speak our language. It happens to anyone. Underexposure makes the outside world seem too loud and intimidating.
Having a meltdown very early in this awful experience is evidence of this. I’m not as tough as I used to be. I’m completely normal in this respect, as no one thrives in a toxic environment except the aggressor. When I caught myself passing the nastiness onto manchild, I immediately put a stop to it – or, you know, within 10 minutes of the beginning of a rant.
Anger is contagious. I hate assholes, and I hate it even more when I become one because I know I’m capable of being better than that.