Tag: stress

Writing

I am writing. Really writing.

I don’t know if it’s going to be trash. I want to trash it. But I won’t.

This is partially because I’ve already started sending people bits and pieces of the first draft, and partially because I feel really good about what I’m writing.

Okay, I lied. It’s only because the people that I sent the drafts to have saved it and are holding them ransom. If I delete what I’ve written they will post the crappy drafts that I’ve written and everyone will laugh at what a trash person I am.

Then again, they probably will when I post it anyway.

I am such a positive person.

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The Walk Home

I think that one of my next door neighbors may be a secret Nazi.

Maybe not so secret. Is it a secret if you have an Iron Eagle sticker on your mailbox?

I don’t know.

My overactive imagination has been running wild the past few weeks about this. I run possible options in my head while I walk past their door when I come home from work every day.

On the one hand they aren’t hurting anyone. On the other hand secret Nazi.

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Night Shift

Yesterday I felt like everything was simultaneously going wrong and right at the same time.

Then I went to work.

I guess I should start from the beginning. I hate when things are different. I love schedules. I love doing the same thing over and over again.

I’m not saying I dislike going on vacation or anything like that, I mean, who could possibly hate going away somewhere and having other people take care of you? An alien maybe. I mean, not having to worry about cleaning up the kitchen or replacing the sheets on the bed? Not having to go to work? Amazing. I could do that forever.

In the real world though, the day to day, I really can’t deal with things changing. Particularly big things. Things that my brain considers to be kind of a big deal.

And Yesterday?

I had to work at night.

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Successes

Have you ever had one of those nights where dreamed you were going through the motions of the day, and then woke up and had to do it all over again?

I had to live through a nightmare of a full shift, climbing into bed, and then boom, the alarm goes off and I realize it was all fake. Just my brain making me do more work.

On a more positive note, some pretty cool stuff happened yesterday!

My husband wants to get back into streaming again. He says that me actually sticking to a schedule (haha, jokes on him) and actually writing ( about something anything at all) is making him feel motivated to stick with something he has wanted to do.

I am going to take all the credit for his desire to do this. I feel like preening for a bit.

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Sweeps

Today, one of my coworkers showed me some of her brand of stress related crazy.

She draws out boxes in intervals of time, and makes them smaller and smaller the longer time goes on. She said it helps her relax and count down how much longer she has until she gets to go home.

I decided to share mine, I mean I figured since she’d decided to share something so personal with me it was only fair that I do the same. I would assume that that was the sort of response you’re supposed to give?

I’m not really sure because I don’t think I’m doing too well at the whole ‘being social at work’ thing.

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No Ragrets

I don’t regret many things in my life.

I honestly do think that every single action and event and decision we choose or don’t choose to make in life leads to the point and person that we are at any given moment in time.¬†Me taking the time to actually write these words are somehow influencing my perspective as a person. And anyone who reads it, and anyone who interacts with anyone who reads it, etc.¬†Trippy idea, right?

Life isn’t something to be wasted sitting around sighing about what we should have done, or could have done. It’s about using what we have done, to influence our future, potentially for the better, maybe not. I mean it’s your life.

Even though I have accepted this idea as truth in my life, even though I fundamentally know that if I were to somehow go back and change things I would be a completely different person, I can’t help but feel a bit sore about one aspect of myself.

I regret that I have spent, and probably will spend so much of my life afraid of failure.

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