Stop bugging yourself, stop bugging yourself, stop.....

My brother Jason emerged from our mother's womb with a PhD in bugging the shit out of people. And he has developed a real love for the discipline with age. Don't get me wrong, I love Jason. Everyone loves him. Even if he's pestering you, you can't help but want him around. Even if you could stop his bugging, you wouldn't want to because somehow you're enjoying yourself. Having said that, he is the master bugger. He was the sibling that would hold his finger centimeters from your face and say "what, I'm not touching you." Or the sibling that would make you forcibly slap yourself and chant "stop hitting yourself."

This is Jason with his little family. They're cute.

This is one of my nieces that Jason teased to tears.

And this is Jason.

I bring Jason up, not to harp on him, but to explain my own self-bugging. Apparently I got so used to the pestering and now do it to myself. Do you ever have those days where you think, "god, I have to make it a whole lifetime living as THIS person? Can I have someone else's personality, if even for a little bit?" Some might label this as "self-loathing" and, by the information I've given they'd probably be right. I, however, prefer to label it "my man period." I thought of coining the phrase "man menses" because I love alliteration, but let's be honest; the word menses is gross. Plus I'm describing the emotional/hormonal (ups-and-downs) equivalent of a period, not the physical equivalent of - well... let's not get into that - of a menses.

My man period begins with a day or two where I just REALLY bug the shit out of myself. Everything I say or do gets the internal mental response of "that's what you've got to say? Really? What a dumb ass." Or "Man, you really just keep on trying don't you? Like a mosquito sucking on a mummy." This is followed by a day or two of turning my annoyance to the outside world. Weep for Ammon, dear reader. He takes my man period in stride every month. Internalizing my Jason-like "stop hitting yourself, stop hitting yourself" is one thing, but turning it on poor unassuming Ammon is rough. Eventually I get tired of being an unmitigated asshole to everyone, and continue with another day or two of internalized "you fail at life."

After that, it's smooth sailing where I love life for about three weeks. Not to say that little things don't bug me or that I'm a master of my emotions three - four weeks out of the month (or ever for that matter). I have just noticed that if I allow myself a little time to wallow in my own self-bugging, I eventually get sick of it and return to my normal happy state. I don't know if others' man periods are as regular or pronounced as mine, but I guarantee most men have one. I won't say Ammon's schedule for the sake of marital cohesion, but trust me, he's got one. So do most of the men I know. I can get a brisk look up as an acknowledgement rather than a hello from a male co-worker and know "that guy's on his man period."

The Miner Brothers (Jacob, Jeremiah, and Jason) with Sierra at her wedding.

So Jason really has nothing to do with my "stop bugging yourself, stop bugging yourself" cycle, it's just because he is a master of his bugging craft that sometimes he's the voice I hear in my head. I am probably that voice to my two little sisters. Come to think of it, I wonder who Jason's "stop bugging yourself" voice is. I bet it's Dad.