Who says there’s no pragmatism in anxiety?

I suppose if you’re going to lock yourself in a room in your house and not be able to get your mental shit together enough to actually leave the room and do the myriad things you have to do, the bathroom is not an unwise choice. 

This is actually a surprisingly  bolstering realization. Not bolstering enough to get me to leave the bathroom, but it’s nice to know that my fucked-up, anxiety-riddled brain at least has the wherewithal to not force me to pee in the laundry basket. So there’s that.

OK, let’s try to combat anxiety with organization. After all, part of what has me in a tailspin this morning is having too many balls in the air and feeling like I am going to fail miserably at juggling them. 

It’s big, immediate things like deadlines. It’s the things that lurk around the corner, like not enough work. It’s stupid things, like why I didn’t start trying to combat been the wings years ago. It’s what am I going to do about my name after the wedding? And it’s the voices in my head trying to be louder than the ones that say writing helps, the ones saying “who wants to read this? who cares?” And warning me about the risks of honesty.

But despite the fact that I’m not entirely convinced, you can’t live your life on the bathroom floor. So… Let’s see what we can do to get up.

If you’ve been here, feel free to play along. The goal is to make a list of everything that needs to be done so it’s written down and not swimming around in my head. Ready? Go!

OK, so the problem there is when you get into multiple step things that need to be done then it just becomes another bees’ nest of bullshit. May I just say that people who do not at least occasionally feel completely pummeled, ’80s racist boxing video game style, by life are hereby formally invited to soak their heads. 

I’m thinking maybe post-its would be a good method. Write each thing you need to do on one and when it’s finished, rip the post-it in half. That seems like it would be cathartic, yeah?

But acquiring post-its means going outside and going outside means leaving the bathroom. And apparently that’s too much of a fucking challenge for my brain to take on right now.

So we’re back to square goddamn one. And I’m hungry and bathroom sink water doesn’t taste nice. Any of you brainiacs have any thoughts?

(It’s cute how I write that as though people are reading this.)

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