Happy - part 4

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.