Warning: seriously negative post!
This is the time of year when you can hear the Grouchy Smurf in me talking.
Have I already mentioned how much I hate November?
The leaves are falling, it rains... it's getting colder AND darker and I hate it.
No matter what I do or with whom I am. Or what I eat, if it helps.
I didn't like it as a single, nor when I was in a happy relationship and less than that when I was about to break up - which just seems to go together perfectly with this month.
November is the month of the dead: it will always be for me.
It's in my DNA, in my memories and it takes all of my efforts to think about whatever positive things.
It's not only the bad mood about myself and the things I didn't accomplish in the previous months, but also about what's coming next.
My body hates that there are going to be layers and layers of clothes on it, the extra 10 pounds that make the difference!
Going out will take longer (especially with kids), it won't be as fun and there are going to be days where I am literally stuck at home (like today, because I don't find the car key) or when I will find an excuse not to go out if not strictly necessary; as if that inner Smurf refused to even think about having fun.
This year November is going to be tougher than ever, with our upcoming move back to Europe.
I refuse to talk about that, because I will be emitting negativity and it wouldn't be nice of me.
I refuse to talk about that, because I will be emitting negativity and it wouldn't be nice of me.
But hey, November...
A fist on my chest, grabs my heart, pulls it out, throws it against a wall and makes mush out of it (am I being splatter?...)
It's really a physical reaction more than a rational one, but knowing this doesn't help having control over it.
The Grouchy Smurf totally possesses me, maybe I need an exorcist.
