Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

Today when I got up and I looked through my errand list I felt cranky. I stomped and sighed and made an ugly face at the dogs. I walked with slumped shoulders and drug my feet. I threw my head back with a bit of a tantrum posture and stomped up and down the stairs again. I defiantly spoke out loud,

" I don't want to go!"

Today, if I was Mrs Potato Head, I was wearing my angry eyes.

Why? What on my list could make me so dramatic and annoyed?

The Post Office.

I HATE HATE HATE going to the post office. Ask my kids how many care packages they have gotten while out at school. The answer is sad.

While I know this is a silly thing, I don't feel too ridiculous when I hear that there are people who have anxiety over items like marshmallows, clowns or cotton balls.

Going to the dentist doesn't bother me. Going to get my taxes done doesn't bother me. Going to anything compared to the post office doesn't bother me! (ok this is a lie. I would rather go to the post office than have a spray tan or draw naked people}

I asked my parents today,

"Did something bad happen to me at a Post Office?"

"No" they responded.

When I told them I truly had anxiety about going to the post office my dad came up with the proper diagnosis.

" You have POST traumatic stress disorder."

It's a miracle that I don't have an intense fear of really bad puns!