I can say this post will not be eloquent. I am tired. Morning broke at about 1:30 am. I got outta bed at 3. I sit yawning in front of the computer wondering if I’ve anything in me to write. Not that eight million vociferous spectres aren’t swarming in my head while tap dancing on the spot in my chest where anxiety used to be sleeping. What’s going on? Well, I got a job. And, true to (bad) form, I threw away self preservation to martyr myself–codependent that I am–upon unrealistic expectations. I say, “Oh I can do that,” when in fact, I cannot keep quickbooks, manage the front of the house as well as instructors, order, track inventory, clean daily, write lesson plans, coordinate volunteers, orchestrate major events, and enter data ad infinitum into a still lame CRM all while donning the smooth super-woman receptionist suit for a position that does not offer overtime. What the hell was I thinking?
And the character defect that I am going to humbly ask be removed is pride. God, I hate looking stupid. But that’s exactly what’s going to occur if I do not learn to say, “No.” I am not–repeat not–a company of one, cannot physically be two places in the present. And what’s worse is I worry. And wish. And think.
Practice living–I tell myself. Remember? Breathe, meditate, exercise, read, create, love. I have practiced pretty faithfully since May of 2010 when the booze and benzo’s landed me in lovely Desert Hot Springs. I accepted that I needed to rehabilitate the way I thought and behaved. Behavior first, thinking followed. Life got better, that dragon in me went dormant, I gave up an imagined control I never possessed anyway. Wow, the instant backspin into craziness takes my breath away.
It is 4. I am going to redouble effort into integrating idealism with reality, putting my mental health first, and to getting some sleep. This little session has slowed those swirling, tapping, nocturnal fears somewhat. Can only live in the present.