This tirade is directed generally and at no one in particular.

It makes people feel good to tell me to take care of myself. But too many people need me to be something I usually am, something normal and at least a little bit productive. Few people seem to realize or give a flying crap that taking-care-of-myself and being-mostly-normal don’t mix. They’re not the same thing, they’re not interchangeable, they cannot be combined. Sometimes I feel almost normal. Sometimes I am so sad or so angry or so vacant and confused that it almost physically hurts to try to function. It’s unpredictable and it’s unpleasant. Sorry for the inconvenience!

So let’s be honest. Tell me you worry about me, but that I need to get over it juuuust long enough to do this or that. Tell me to take care of myself, but only after I’ve done whatever it is you need me to do. Don’t tell me you know this is going to be a long and difficult process, and then turn around and get a look on your face as if to say you’re displeased that I’m not acting like I should.

In fact, maybe we should also review what I should and shouldn’t do. I shouldn’t lose my temper with a two-year-old because she is only two, none of this is her fault, and my alternating bitchiness and weepiness and freaking out is going to scar her for life. Do you think?  Good golly, I didn’t think of that; I am only freaking out because it’s my hobby! How about this: Don’t tell me what I should and shouldn’t do. TELL ME HOW to do what I should do, and not do what I shouldn’t do, and believe me, I will be happy to oblige. This is not my idea of indulgent fun.