Short Fuse

Maybe this is a short girl thing. Maybe it’s an age thing. Maybe it’s just me.

My fuse is getting shorter. Increasingly so. I’ve always been a fairly easygoing type when it comes to others. With myself, that’s another story, but with other people I would rarely snap, bite or give them a second thought. I still don’t, in fairness – it takes a special kind of shitgibbon to really rile me.

However I’m finding that of late, my irritability has shot through the roof.

This manifests in ways I’m not keen on at all. I get frustrated at the slightest thing. I’m snappy with the dog. I’m snappy with Small-Me. Again, it could just be the age she’s at…or the fact that I’m not getting any younger either, but I get so irate with her over things lately that it’s stopping me in my tracks.

Is she going to hate me when she’s older? Fuck no. I’ll work my arse off to ensure that doesn’t happen. Doesn’t mean I won’t spend a canny bit of time torturing myself with the idea of it though.

It’s not just with Small-Me though. My fuse is short with general life. I feel annoyed inside on an almost constant basis. I have a burning sense of resentment in general, for no good reason that anyone else could identify. That’s not to say I hate my life, far from it – there are loads of amazing people in it and I’m very fortunate in that respect. There are many, many others who have things far worse than I do. This is not a post that’s intended to convey a burning need for attention or self-pity, whatsoever.

Why is my short fuse burning though? Tiredness is a core component of my being (more on this elsewhere), but I’ve managed with it for over 20 years without being this much of a grouchy bitch, so why now? I can’t just blame it on exhaustion. It’s not situational. It’s nothing to do with the people who matter to me – I love them more than anything, even if I do act like Waynetta Slob during a steroid comedown towards them at times.

I think It’s a feeling. Something that’s started organically and is beginning to consume my decency piece by piece. It’s not a depression, or anything as lazy to label as that. It’s an almost existential rage brought on by an increasingly changing world.

I want to address that feeling though, because I bet I’m not the only person of my generation with this inner angry arsehole lingering around. I feel we’ve somehow drawn the shit end of some cosmic personality stick, and as a result there are loads of us plastering on a grin whilst internally firing up the ‘fuck-you’ fingers and dreaming of boarding a ferry to anywhere other than the life we’re in.

Is it just me? I don’t think it is. I think there’s a collective short fuse amongst those of us known rather fucking irritatingly as ‘Millennials’ or ‘Generation Y’. We’ve dealt with a lot of change. A lot. In a really short space of time, too. Our adaptability is second to fucking none.

We’re the children who lurched frantically from Rainbow to Noel’s House Party, from recording the Spice Girls off the radio onto a cassette to the advent of the CD. We navigated the waters of the Acorn Archimedes and the floppy disks that were actually physically floppy, to the revolutionary introduction of AOL and the dial-up modem. Our world developed at a terrifying pace; cable TV, ICQ, chat rooms, MSN, pagers, the first ever mobile phones. And just look where we are today.

We are the fucking masters of change and adaption…and I think we’re getting totally sick of it.

A lifetime of monumental progress has rendered a lot of us irritated at the constant requirement to keep up. Smart tech, VR, social media as a continual burden in our personal and professional lives…we’ve never had any let up in 30 odd years.

I’m tired. Not of my people. Not of my life. I’m tired of the pressure to stay on top of change. Yet I don’t want to give up on my own relevance either. I don’t want to be one of the old bastards who goes on about ‘back in my day’…but I need a fucking break from change.

It’s lighting my short fuse.

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