The Petulance Problem.

       I'm fed up. So over this. Ugh. Can you hear it? The juvenile whine, the annoying repetitive nature and immaturity in my voice. I hear it. I'm sick of it too, this attitude that comes with Grief. I have long held the belief that to enjoy the good times in life we need to endure tough times. It seems only logical to me that I could never appreciate the full depth of joy in life if I was born on a sunny day that never turned to gray.
       Why then can I not logic my way through this Grief? It should be simple enough to say to myself, endure this difficult time and you will see soon, soon enough, how wonderful again your life will really be. I can say it, sure, plenty of times, coach myself in the mirror even. It doesn't seem to help. I am peevish with my reflection, irritated that I cannot be convinced that there is purpose here, in this loss.
       Had we not endured enough? Was there not enough trial in our lives before this? Was it not someone else's turn? I can't seem to stop it, the frustration nagging at me, making me huff and pout, sigh and snap.
I know that this attitude will not change my circumstance. I cannot bring my son back, cannot turn back time to divert the course of our lives. We are here, forever, and being sulky and petulant is hurting me.
       I'm doing my best, knowing this Grief will continue, to catch myself when that mood strikes, before I lash out at others. I am working at my ill-temper, trying to control it, to show my family that I am bigger than this loss, better than this Grief that threatens to change who I am. I don't want to be irritable and easily-crossed.
       I am going to push past this phase, tuck in my bottom lip, paste on my smile again, and brush aside my petty thoughts. I am strong enough to get through this...I just don't want to.




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