I’m travelling for work this morning, up to Dublin, our nation’s capital and undeservedly one of my least favourite cities in the world. I don’t know why, I just have taken agin it. It’s probably due to being a (mostly) Corkonian.

I’m running on pretty little sleep because my brain is a self-sabotager and when I need to get up noticeably earlier than usual then it winds itself up and has more trouble than usual in falling asleep. This is not a favourite trait of mine.

But I thought I was all organised and I like travelling. I like airports and train stations and buses and the excitement and potential of the early morning and heading off on a journey. And I like travelling in a “businessy” kind of a way; you’d have thought I’d be over that after my time in Japan and I certainly did enough of it there to last anyone a lifetime, but the appeal it holds for me possibly kept me in Japan longer than it might have kept another person.

But I made a couple of small mistakes in forgetting my earphones and the seats I booked are the ones with a thin sliver of a table rather than a proper table – something I hadn’t even realised was a thing, and now I’m extra annoyed because I’ve booked exactly the same seats for my return journey.

So rather than a nice comfortable table to type at, I’m having to balance my laptop on my knees and I’ve got other work to do on this journey too and if someone decides to sit beside me I will not have the space to do it. The upside to the dreadful seats is that people are less likely to sit beside me and I know if it were guaranteed I’d choose the poor table space over having to share personal space with other humans.

It’s still nice to be on the move and feeling a mild sense of adventure, even if I do have to spend the day in the company of the principal of my school – which is fine apart from the fact that I know I’ll feel a bit like I’m on an all-day interview.

Yesterday, by the way, was terrible in the morning. All the stress and frustration and anger I said I was going to try to avoid? Well, I squished it the hell down until on the fifth foiled attempt to exit the house I just exploded and made my kids cry.

I am the worst.

I’m not saying that flippantly or in some sort of cute and coy way. I’m the worst. I was not in control of myself or my emotions, and sure I was having some intense period pains and exhaustion but that wasn’t it. I find it really hard to cope with thinking that I’m just about to leave the house and then turning around and getting this that and the next thing. I think I feel like a device that’s switched on and off too rapidly and then I blow a fuse.

But I don’t like it. I don’t like it in me and it has to change.

Myself and G. had a brief conversation later in the day and we both apologised to one another and had some quick thoughts about how we can make it better. I feel like a small amount of movement on both of our sides would make the difference.

I’m not sure what to do from my side though. I thought I was doing everything right yesterday by thinking it through and trying to accept what it was going to be like, and to accept that being a few minutes late for a casual meet up is fine. But then I just wasn’t fine. Squishing down the emotions doesn’t help. But I hate shouting and dictating and organising fucking everyone else to get out the door.

I have to communicate better and I have to chill the fuck out.

Then we got in the car and the damned thing wouldn’t start. Flat battery. We were a full on hour late for the friend meet-up at the animal park. But by the time the battery was charged and we were on the road, I was actually in a far better mood. It’s ironic how an actual crisis (even a minor jump-startable one) can get you back on the right team. Myself and G. worked together. The boys were supportive and sweet and curious and obedient.

And after that we had just a most excellent day.

I just wish I could learn to start out a bit better.