![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Right in front of my face.
Mar. 25th, 2003 10:25 amI've been in this weird crappy moody state all morning -- feeling bogged down and frustrated and petulent. So Damon calls me up and asks if I have lunch plans and I do and I indicate that I'm just sort of doing "eh" and I start to talk about it, but then I just stop and say "I can't do this right now. I have to go. Bye." And pretty much just abruptly hung up the phone.
Funny how being a drama queen about something makes a lot of the fears dissipate. As soon as I hung up the phone I thought "that was such an unnecessary reaction." I'm mostly just frustrated with scheduling stuff right now -- trying to balance what I want with what I need with what's even possible. I'm trying to eliminate thinking about what I should do because it's not productive.
Oh, and I have no money. So that's just another stressor. I will have money very shortly, so it's not critical mass problem or anything, but it still doesn't exactly help alleviate stress when I must re-think buying a drink at a corner store because that might not leave me enough money for a sandwich later today. I was doing a lot better about not cutting it so close near the end of the pay period, but I think I went overboard two weeks ago in paying down some bills and didn't adjust my daily spending accordingly.
I still need to pack up my desk at work. I haven't started. There aren't enough boxes. I'll have to unpack someone else's boxes so I can use them. I don't like to unpack and pack my own stuff, much less someone else's.
My home is in shambles. It's so cluttered and messy and upsetting that I don't like to be there, but then I get stressed out by not having enough home time. So I plan for some time at home, with a to-do list of activities to complete and make me feel more comfortable. But when I get home, all I want to do is sit and just be. Last night I managed to fix the futon frame, which is something. But I spent more time watching VH1's Where Are They Now? and reading magazines and drinking soymilk. I couldn't make myself start anything -- it's like I needed to just be home for long enough to feel connected and invested, so then I would care enough to clean. Don't get me wrong though -- I think I just as much needed to have quiet down time and I enjoyed it a lot. It felt decadent going to bed before 11 pm. Even Sophie seemed happy to get tucked in so early in the evening.
Writing about all this stress and emotional reactions releases a lot of the grip it's had on my head and heart.
There's time. It's okay. There's plenty of time. And hell, even if there's not and you go away from this world tomorrow, are you really going to be mad that you spent last night having dinner with a friend and chilling out with your dog? Not bloody likely.
Funny how being a drama queen about something makes a lot of the fears dissipate. As soon as I hung up the phone I thought "that was such an unnecessary reaction." I'm mostly just frustrated with scheduling stuff right now -- trying to balance what I want with what I need with what's even possible. I'm trying to eliminate thinking about what I should do because it's not productive.
Oh, and I have no money. So that's just another stressor. I will have money very shortly, so it's not critical mass problem or anything, but it still doesn't exactly help alleviate stress when I must re-think buying a drink at a corner store because that might not leave me enough money for a sandwich later today. I was doing a lot better about not cutting it so close near the end of the pay period, but I think I went overboard two weeks ago in paying down some bills and didn't adjust my daily spending accordingly.
I still need to pack up my desk at work. I haven't started. There aren't enough boxes. I'll have to unpack someone else's boxes so I can use them. I don't like to unpack and pack my own stuff, much less someone else's.
My home is in shambles. It's so cluttered and messy and upsetting that I don't like to be there, but then I get stressed out by not having enough home time. So I plan for some time at home, with a to-do list of activities to complete and make me feel more comfortable. But when I get home, all I want to do is sit and just be. Last night I managed to fix the futon frame, which is something. But I spent more time watching VH1's Where Are They Now? and reading magazines and drinking soymilk. I couldn't make myself start anything -- it's like I needed to just be home for long enough to feel connected and invested, so then I would care enough to clean. Don't get me wrong though -- I think I just as much needed to have quiet down time and I enjoyed it a lot. It felt decadent going to bed before 11 pm. Even Sophie seemed happy to get tucked in so early in the evening.
Writing about all this stress and emotional reactions releases a lot of the grip it's had on my head and heart.
There's time. It's okay. There's plenty of time. And hell, even if there's not and you go away from this world tomorrow, are you really going to be mad that you spent last night having dinner with a friend and chilling out with your dog? Not bloody likely.
