I hate it when I find myself bothered by something...something I shouldn't be so bothered by, something I shouldn't let get the best of me, and then I find myself more bothered that I let it bother me to begin with. I beat myself up for not being as mature as I like to think I am. It really bothers me that it bothers me, you know? Focusing my irritation inward allows me to ignore the sting of whatever initially bothered me rather than being honest with myself, examining why I'm bothered, and working through it. It's a vicious cycle.

My darling spouse seems bothered by nothing, leaving me room to be bothered enough for the both of us, but that is often exhausting.