Yesterday I felt great again. I worry about these days. I felt awful before work, worse than usual, and I got to work dreading the day. Without any reason or warning whatsoever, my mood instantly did a 180 right after I'd clocked in. I was grateful, but somewhat confused. Then I got upset with a customer to whom I had just sold two Lotto tickets. She had wanted two picks for each number, but I hadn't understood her request at the time. I had to buy the tickets because she didn't want them. Again, just like every single time I let myself get angry, after it was all over, I felt awful about it. I kicked myself and hated myself. I wish I could control that better. But then I felt great again, five minutes later. Brittney and I cut up all during the shift and just had a great time. Oh boy, if I had time to write up all the crap that happened yesterday...
So. I was almost sorry that the shift ended, which is unheard of, because I knew my mood would have nowhere to go. I worry about these good moods because there is no discernible reason for them. I wish I could feel like that all the time, 24/7, but I don't. Why can't I feel like that at church too? It's only at work, and randomly, at that. I can just hope that I'll feel good before work every day. Sometimes I do, and sometimes I don't.
I think that it's God letting me know that happiness doesn't depend on any one thing, but I don't know how to let that happen all the time. It worries me. I don't like being worried.
I think about giving up sometimes, on church and Orthodoxy. I feel like I've just gotten a handle on some negative emotions recently, and as soon as that happened, hell. I don't know. I don't know how. I need something. Something is missing. I'm defective. I don't like this. I don't like it. I don't like these things, these thoughts and these things I write. I don't like feeling like this. I don't like other people reading about it when I'm feeling like this. I don't like my situation. I don't like needing something. I don't like needing someone. I don't like it. Maybe it's just an attack, a brutal brutal attack. I don't have anyone to talk to about this, just this blog. Maybe I'll e-mail Fr. Justin.