Thing you may or may not know about me: I'm kind of a control freak. Kind of.
It's the downside of being incredibly self reliant. All it really means is I'd rather just do things myself than trust that somebody else will get them done in a timely and correct fashion.
Sometimes this is a really awesome trait because I'm all about getting shit done.
Sometimes (ok, all the time) it means I'm incapable of leaving work at work, it has a lot to do with my constant struggle to learn to say "no" to people and it makes me nearly incapable of asking for help.
I've spent my life being the responsible one, the calm one, the in control one. I'm the friend you call when life gets crazy. I'm the person that calms you down, supports you, sympathizes and figures how to pry you out when you're stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Unless you know me really well (or read this blog), I am a rock.
If you know me really well, and I mean, really well, you know I'm not.
If you know me really well, you know that I take personal responsibility for everything. Everything. And it makes me really really stressed if I fall even slightly behind on any aspect of my life.
Like, I get stressed that I'm not making time to go to yoga. Which basically means I get stressed about not destressing, which kind of makes sense, but also kind of makes me think I'm doing it wrong. NOTHING RELATED TO SOMETHING THAT RELAXES YOU SHOULD EVER BE STRESSFUL.
I'm constantly stressed when we don't get a lot of business at work. I know this has nothing to do with me, but it stresses me the fuck out and not because I'm afraid of losing my job or anything, but because I think somehow, I am personally responsible for our lack of business despite doing my job of making sure there are awesome tasty treats every day.
The lack of volunteer work in my life makes me stressed. I can't even find time to go to yoga, and I'm stressed that I'm not doing volunteer work. How does that even make sense? I feel like there's something vaguely narcissistic in thinking that I matter that much.
I don't read the news every day. That makes me feel irresponsible. Feeling irresponsible makes me feel stressed. This also relates to the volunteer work.
The world is fucked up guys, do you know that? Doesn't it stress you out that you can't fix it all? Yes, that is on the list of things that overwhelm. SO MUCH IS WRONG ALL THE TIME AND I CAN'T FIX IT. I just want to fix it.
Also, totally on a different level, but why dont' I have a boyfriend? Not having a boyfriend makes me stressed. Oh right, because the idea of going on dates stresses me even more.
My controlling nature also makes me hate the world where all plans are left until the last minute. Choose a movie time! Tell me when to come over! Decide when things need to be done and stick with it. I don't keep my life meticulously scheduled but there is nothing I hate more than "I'll text you and we'll figure it out" or "We should do (fill in the blank) sometime". Let's just figure it out. Right now. Ok? Otherwise I am. Or I'm not going to wait around because I don't trust anyone to actually follow through with anything ever.
Yes, I am one of those people whose parental units were never on time/didn't remember I needed to be picked up or at which after school activity I was located. And in this case, I'm talking about my grandparents, THE RESPONSIBLE ONES, not even my parents (aka, the not so responsible ones). Consequently, I am obsessed with concrete plans and timeliness. Sorry. Also I'm obsessed with it because it makes figuring out the rest of my life easier.
And after that list, now you know why I'm never actually joking about the klonopin.
One time just my type boy told me "I think you're one of those people that shouldn't even have a job, you find so much to take on even without one".
I think that was just a nice way of saying "You are really high strung, chill the fuck out for a second".
And part of my being high strung, is making sure you don't know just how close I am to sitting in the walk in and bawling my fucking eyes out some days.
It's all really exhausting. I wasn't joking when I said I push myself to the point of being curled up in a ball in the corner, exhausted. That was me most of this past week.
I gave myself permission to not do anything for the last two days. I told myself it was ok to not go to yoga, to not think about the ten day food festival we have coming up, that I will have time to do laundry after work tomorrow, that I was not less of a human being because I didn't go for a run.
I reminded myself that despite what my somewhat sporadic blogging makes it seem like, mostly, I've been pretty damn satisfied with life lately.
And that when I do feel the overwhelming urge to sob, it's because I'm stressed and frustrated and it's not because I'm depressed. I know that seems terrible also, but I'd rather be sobbing because I worked myself to exhaustion and then did five favors for friends than be sobbing and in the bell jar, barely able, or unable to get myself out of bed.
I just need to chill the fuck out for a while. Because, actually, everything is OK. There's a lot to do this month, but I've got it and if some things slide, I'll pick them back up next month.
The world isn't ending because I haven't gone for a run in a week.
I know, I'm shocked too.