Of Weariness and Lessons Learned

The beginning of this week has been stressful and enormously frustrating in many ways, and yet once again much of the blame rests upon myself. The exasperating conversations and the dust and the sheer physical exhaustion from a combination of over-stimulation and travelling while already feeling unwell are not of my doing, but what of the needless mental anguish indulged when I might have oh-so-easily ignored the triggers, gracefully choosing to let them pass? What of the prolonged headache indubitably induced by cramming sugar into my body as a means of superficial stress relief instead of going out for a walk (the five pounds I must have gained from two days of poor food choices will most likely show up tomorrow on my face)? What of the things that I did control?

I owe people an apology for those, because I botched them. Big time. Which isn't all that much of a surprise after all, given the track record, but still, it oughtn't have happened; I should not have exacerbated the existing problems without reservation, choosing to narrow my scope of attention and keep it fixed upon what could only put me in a nasty temper. Amidst all of the pleasant conversations and hours passed does it have to be the irritating comments and uncomfortable moments that define a visit with my extended family? There are legitimate reasons behind preferring one place in the world over another, but I cannot help wondering now what my insistent clinging to a negative mood despite the needs and affection of people here says about me as a person.