My head quite possibly could explode (in a Muppet-esque fashion, of course) and I’ve become an absolute a**hole. True story.

Talking with my mother last night, she helped me to realize something. See, I’m pretty dumb when it comes to diagnosing discomfort in my life. Well, not so much diagnosing, but just noticing that it’s there. It’s like running and running and running and realizing that something’s not right but not paying attention. Eventually you look down only to realize that one of your feet is gone. Kinda like that.

So with the prodding of my mother, I realized that I’m 4 for 5 in the top things in life that can stress you the hell out. Sweet. I always was an over-achiever.

Death of a relative, getting married, job change and moving. While the job thing isn’t a definite, it’s distinct possibility. Come May(ish), the Roomate has to move out, setting our common-law marriage in peril, and no longer earning us the title of “heterosexual life partners.” Being so, I have to figure out whether I’m moving to Louisville, and if so, where the holy heck I’m going to find a job peddling my half-assed web abilities.

While the death of my grandmother is not like losing a parent or sibling, nonetheless it weighs on me daily, adding weight to what apparently has been on my shoulders.

And then there’s the wedding preparations. I take back that I wanted to design that invitation system. You can pick the colors, flowers, table decorations, favors, bridesmaids dresses. Hell, take the music list too. I take back the notion that I care about anything, offering more than 50% input on all aspects of the activities. I request that things go back to where they stereotypically should be: this is the bride’s day, so the bride can plan the whole freaking thing. I just show up on time and say yes. No?

Oh, and I’m taking on three freelance projects to make some money to pay for the honeymoon and some couches.

So because of said factors, how does Brian cope with all this stress? I’m a royal ass at work. I’ve become exactly what I hate: irrational, trigger-happy, dramatic and whiney. I explode at every email asking me to do just one. more. thing. I am disgruntled and cynical. I’m impatient and aggressive. I’m sure all those in my office have had more than enough of my antics. And believe you me, no one is more tired of this craptacular attitude than myself.

So starting today, no more Mr. Bitchy. No more “OMG can you believe this assinine request I just got!?!?” No more whining about life or wishing that things would just resolve themselves without my intervention. At some point, you have to just pick up a shovel and start moving the mountain out of the way. I can’t just sit at the base of mountain and pout.