This is what I’m telling myself right this second, as I type this. No. Nope. We aren’t doing this today. Not today.
I’m trying very hard to ward off an anxiety shitstorm. All the elements are here. Bullshit happens. It just does. When unexpected stressful shit happens, all the other anxiety snaps to attention, commandeers my brain, and makes my nerve endings sizzle.
It’s just a matter of time, you know.
What if he’s sick again?
Sure, it’s all cool now, but what about a year from now or three years from now?
You’re walking into a pile of shit tomorrow at work. What if you fail? Even if you don’t fail, it’s just a few steps to the next pile of shit. You’ve been doing this for going on 30 years now. Aren’t you tired?
We don’t have the money to get the house ready to sell. We’re boxing things up for no reason.
I don’t want to do this right now. With all my heart and soul, I don’t want to do this right now. I actually do have a pile of shit that I’m walking into tomorrow. I can’t be this worked up. I know what needs to happen to fix the issue and I can fix it. This level of anxiety, however, distracts me. Like “mosquito whining in your ear” distraction. I can’t afford distractions.
Even more than work, though, I just don’t want to. I don’t want to feel the hopelessness and go through days feeling like my stomach is filled with rancid milk.
So fuck this.
I’m going to talk myself out of this. And if I can’t, (which, let’s face it…is the likely outcome. Decades of data tells me I won’t be able to talk myself out of it), I’m just going to keep on going like I can talk myself out of this anxiety storm.
Why shouldn’t I try? I mean, even if I haven’t been able to in the past, does that mean I shouldn’t try? I’ve kicked a lot of things in the ass. Who says I can’t kick this particular anxiety storm in the ass?
I named the last anxiety storm. I named it Muffy Thundercunt. I’m naming this one Sylvia Assbutt.
You know that inspirational shit that people post on Facebook? I almost always roll my eyes at it. Not because we shouldn’t be positive or see the good, of course not. I roll my eyes because I’m not good at emotions and I’m a little crabby.
I am taking a deep breath. I’m putting my crabbiness aside, and I’m going to try that whole positive thinking thing. I’m coming up with 10 things strong enough to kick the shit out of Sylvia Assbutt.
Joel and Ethan Coen continue to make movies. I’m watching Hail, Caesar as I write this and Sylvia Assbutt isn’t invited to watch. Mountain Girl has been nagging me to watch this movie. She was right.
Randy started packing shit up. We are going to be able to sell this house. We will move into something tiny, cozy, and filled with fairy dust.
Melissa McCarthy. Sylvia Assbutt is no match for Melissa McCarthy.
I have been running on my treadmill more nights than not for 3 weeks now. I am a motherfucking badass.
Even though I still get really stressed out over work stuff, my current boss isn’t an asshole.
Both of my cars are running. I mean, not right this second. They’re parked, but they would both run right now if I wanted to drive them somewhere. Not at the same time. That’s just silly. You know what I’m not? I’m not superstitious. I do not believe, even a tiny bit, in anything superstitious. Yet, I still hesitated saying anything about the cars both running lest I jinx shit.
I was born in age where ice cubes are readily available.
I have completed my time where cartoon watching isn’t part of my day. I never have to see Caillou, Ed, Edd ‘n’ Eddy or Pokemon ever, ever again. Given my list of cartoons, I am sure it is apparent that this has been true for a while. I have no idea what cartoons parents suffer through now. This doesn’t mean that I don’t still appreciate the shit out of not watching cartoons anymore. Except Fairly Oddparents. And Courage the Cowardly Dog. Maybe Dexter’s Laboratory. I also never minded the Teletubbies. I realize I am in a minority as they seem to bug the shit out of every other parent. I found them comforting. But fuck Barney. That was impossible to watch. Or Big Comfy Couch. Loonette annoyed the shit out of me. Probably, because her name was Loonette.
I have enough. I truly do. Do I sweat bills? Fuck yes. Especially, this year. The medical bills are spectacular, but are being paid. I still have to get that central air fixed. A new roof is needed, but truly, I have enough. I am comfortable. I have calories available. I have clean drinking water. I have a family who loves me. I have enough.
I don’t know if this fixed anything or not. I feel better right this second. I’m calling it a win.