It’s 12:10 am, and I should be sleeping because I have work tomorrow. But, I can’t sleep. I am ruminating and stressing, and rather than toss and turn in bed and try to fight the lump of anxiety in my throat and the tension in my neck, I look for solace in J’s Macbook Pro (it’s so pretty).
Sorry for not posting for a while–I’ve got posts in queue, but haven’t gotten around to writing. It’s partly due to a self-imposed embargo from the internet over the long weekend, but mostly due to the fact that I’m burning out at work and in life, and I just don’t have the energy to be creative.
I hate quoting cliches, but I really do think that I am my own worst enemy and it’s resulting in anxiety, stress, downright no energy, and–my own worst nightmare–lack of productivity, disorganization, and inability to “give” of myself to people I care about in my life. In my efforts to outdo myself and achieve–Achieve what, you ask? I really don’t know. And this is my problem. I want to do well in every facet of my life, but I have never really sat down to indicate what “well” means. Knowing what I know about myself, this unclear definition of “well” floating around in my frontal lobe is probably unrealistic and unachievable. I have a tendency to say yes and have good intentions, but I’m finding that for the last several months, I haven’t been able to deliver. I have a constant nagging feeling that I’m doing something wrong or not good enough and letting someone down, and rather than DO something to address these anxieties, I agree to take on more without really being able to even get it done. How f’d am I feeling right now?
And now add, if you like, the superfluous amount of change I’ve undergone in the last 7 months–moving out, moving back home, moving out again, setting up house with the hubby, getting married, experiencing a family tragedy, my ongoing mourning and grief, my family’s ongoing mourning and grief, changing jobs, taking on a new job with more responsibility and essentially working 2 jobs for the last 5 months, adjusting to being married, adjusting to financial concerns that now affect two people instead of just one, adjusting to family expectations–blah, do you really want the list to go on?
Sometimes I feel like I don’t have a right to complain–to anyone who’s not me, I’ve got it pretty good. I’ve got a great husband, a great job, make a decent living, live in a great condo with beautiful (I think) furniture, have great friends, have a super close family, have a blog that people actually read (thanks!). And I know people who have it way harder than me. I see it with my own eyes on a daily basis.
But, fuck that. I can only compare myself to my experience. I look like I’ve got it together, but really, I’m just a neurotic ball of anxiety and stress and guilt and worry, and I keep spinning and spinning in one spot exerting all this energy but getting nowhere. It’s like I’m active and inert simultaneously.
And, then, there’s that little voice inside my head that says–if you can’t deal with this shit, LBB, how the heck are you gonna deal with motherhood, jobs with higher demands, complicated family stressors, THE LIST GOES ON AND ON!
I have always had some trouble following rules–others’ rules for me, policies, procedures–and I am finding that as I get older and take on more responsibility, I’m having trouble following even the rules I set for myself. And by rules, I’m not talking about morals or principles–those are pretty well set. I’m talking about rules for living, rules for setting boundaries; for example, don’t stay at work past 5 pm, wake up on time, say no. So, that neurotic ball keeps spinning and spinning…
So what do I do? I have always tended to take care of myself and not rely on others too much. Some people have interpreted this as conceit or perfectionism, but it really is just years of self-reliance and a healthy sense of self-efficacy. I’ve always believed that no matter what challenge I had, I could always get through it with my abilities and my wit, and I always did. But now, as I process all that I’ve written, after all the change and upheaval I’ve gone through, I am not so sure I am able or witty or clever enough to get through all the challenges hurled at me simultaneously. It’s almost like my sense of self has been toppled, and I’m standing beside a pile of rubble wondering if that was me and wondering how the heck I’m going to build myself back up. Is this the time for me to throw in the towel and finally say, I can’t do it all?
Even writing that is hard.
Or maybe I just need a vacation. Or a good night’s sleep.