At a little over 10 weeks, my emotional range hasn’t been vastly different. In fact, despite the all-day hangover feeling and fatigue, I’ve been downright cheerful.
However, certain things can trigger a highly emotional reaction that goes beyond what I’m used to. I feel like I’m back in teenage territory, throwing a huge fit. I feel ridiculous as I’m doing it, but I also feel it needs to run its course.
Little things get to me. At work, there have been a couple of times where I feel I’ve been slighted. Were the slights intentional? Probably not. But I interpreted them as marks against me, indictments of my work performance. In one case, I had to go out for a walk around the block to avoid people and keep back my tears. In another case, I sat through an entire meeting, brooding. I’ve gotten over these instances, but I can’t deny that they happen.
However, this evening? Jesus, I’m going to be mad about it for a while.
So, remember cousin-in-law’s wedding? Well, cousin-in-law’s invitation came today. Cousin-in-law also has a terrible habit of misspelling my first name, constantly. She adds extra letters and switches out another one. She also drops the first half of my last name (I double barreled because I did not want to lose my middle or last names). The dropping, okay, fine, simplicity. But misspelling my name?
It’s fucking common courtesy to make sure your guests’ names are spelled correctly on their invitations. I was meticulous about this when I got married. People have given names: don’t fuck them up!
I was in a good mood when I came home from work. I’d just listened to a song I hadn’t thought about in years and wanted to download it from iTunes. I was going to post something cutesy on Twitter about belting out the song along with my cousin when I was 13 years old. But as I picked up the mail, my joy turned to rage. FULL. ON. RAGE.
I was so mad that I threw the mail, including the invite, HARD on the damn floor. Like, temper tantrum mode. I was infuriated, people. I almost logged back into Facebook to post a passive-aggressive message about how my name is X, not XXX, XXA, XXZA, etc. I decided not to because I don’t miss Facebook (and didn’t want to be a bitch), but holy hell.
My name is a sensitive thing. People are always misspelling it, dropping the last letter, getting it completely wrong. I just want to shake people and ask what’s wrong with them!? Figure it out – if you’re thinking of taking a random stab at it, ASK first. And it’s not like this cousin-in-law hasn’t been exposed to my name before; even though I deactivated Facebook, I would still show on her friends list. She could’ve looked me up. Or emailed me. But no, she apparently thinks she knows how to spell my name.
I sent my husband a message, asking if we could please let her know that she keeps on misspelling it – nicely, of course. I wouldn’t blame him if he were a bit annoyed with my text, but I’m also highly pissed because she keeps on doing this. I think my husband has corrected her in the past and apparently it doesn’t stick.
I know part of my reaction is typical – I’d be mad at this, anyway – but I know the reaction is heightened. Throwing things? Sending snippy text messages? Almost crying (yep)? Yeah, sometimes I have these surges, mostly of anger.
I’m going to calm down now – venting on the blog has been therapeutic.
But I have no idea what I’ll do if she misspells my name on an escort card even after we’ve asked her to spell it correctly.