Is there a place in our friendship for my moodiness?

Is there a place in our friendship for my moodiness? I don't get to talk to you very often because let's face it: we're both so busy. I talk to you at most on a monthly basis and see you at most once annually so as you can imagine I want to make it count. I want you to call me for another phone-date or get-together, etc.


What do I mean when I say that I am "moody?" I mean that I feel a distinct ebb and flow to my emotions over the course of the day. The change in tide is subtle but its there. Sometimes the leaves on a tree are less like the bold generic "green" from the smaller Crayola assortment and more like the duller melancholy "seafoam" from the larger boxes that have multiple rows. While the change is subtle, its not simple enough such that I can honestly exculpate myself with a "sorry Broseph, today sucked and I am just not myself." The problem is that this really is myself. Sometimes I don't want to visit with anyone and just want to take a Life Vacation. This is the true "it's not you, it's me" scenario. Promise.

These are short periods of time that come and go. I don't lash out and it doesn't compromise my activities of daily living. I still relate well to people and do my job well. Its not like some wild roller-coaster ride but it is undeniable. If we are caught in one during our short time together I feel terrible because I don't feel 100% present and that feels like I'm lying. Is it better just to pretend that I am having a better time than I am? That sounds like the complete opposite of what good friends do. I feel caught.


I think with age and the time crunch of our complex lives, the stakes in our singular interactions are significantly raised. I used to see you nearly every day. We used to sit in the same room and say nothing at all because we knew this moment or even this entire visit was just one data point in a line of data points such that a single less-than-communicative period of time was without consequence. When did every living moment become so weighty, so imbued with meaning?