I forewent a monk-made chocolate truffle at lunch, but have unfortunately helped myself to a second serving of ice cream. I don’t know why I feel so confessional about it. I just need a place to say it and the thought of maintaining a second blog just to write things about what I shouldn’t buy the ice cream, really, because it’s impossible to really see how much you are allowed to eat. But I know that I have committed myself to two doses and this means I must get on the bike and bike…aggressively.
I wish I could just transcend the whole PMS, eat like a maniac and
Today was stressful, but not in any particular way significantly differently stressful, so I don’t know why I felt like I was on this vast expanse of pins and needles and strewn eggshells from the moment I woke up. If I had to guess, yes, we had an important visitor reviewing files and documents and all sorts of things from our deeply, deeply, wholly not-great year. But we had things accessible enough, explainable enough, logical enough to at least answer what needed to be answered (so far, they might not be done yet) that everyone seems okay. I wish I could just chill about any of it. I keep worrying over my responsibilities, things I’ve tried hard to keep up with all year, something I didn’t realize having been forgotten. Especially with everything we’ve had to hold together to keep everything running. I felt the whole body tension and felt no impulse to let go of it. I was just freaked out and concerned and I am trying to say, it’s Friday, you’re home, you’re full of ice cream and about to go get on a bike/play a shitton of video games and forget about it. But I still feel the vise grip of something somewhere is going wrong.
I just got the whole wallop of emotions. You can bleed every month for decades, you can get a notification on your phone that says, “HEY, ABOUT NOW, YOU ARE GOING TO GO ALL OFF-SCRIPT AND WONKY! SO…LOOK OUT!” and still go, Jesus, I am an utter mess right now.
Which is not to say, never to say, there weren’t bright spots. I spoke to my mentor and I’m going to the ol’ stomping grounds to see her either before or after the Galentine’s Day party. It was great to hear her voice and I noticed the way I sounded much more relaxed and confident just talking to her.
It helps just to say that you feel out of control. It’s only one day’s worth of out of controlness. And the whirling is mainly 1/2 cup of ice cream and some bad ideas about what makes a lady a lady (hint: it’s being perfect, obviously) and a desire to eat tacos until I explode. I have only caved to one of these absurdities.
It is FRIDAY. COME ON NOW.