I’ve never done this before, but I’m writing this post from my phone. I needed to write this post precisely because I don’t have time to write it.
I’ve woken up every morning this week into a state of flight. I’d stay in bed as long as I could – afraid to face the day – and then I’d jump in the shower, grab the oatmeal I made the night before from the fridge (it would seem that I we prepared… but actually that oatmeal was made to satiate me post the workout that I consistently missed all week) and then run out the door to work. I didn’t even have the time. E to journal.
Work started at 8:30 or 9am and then went until 10pm… or later. If I’m not in bed by 10am I know that trying to make my 6:30am workout will be a losing battle. Especially since it took me around 1-2 hours to fall asleep near every night this week.
Maybe this feels like a different tone of post. I guess that’s because it is. I’m stressed the F out.
When did it start?
I guess it started last Saturday when I missed a very important appointment. An appointment with an agency. I went to the wrong location, finding myself in Lynn Valley when I needed to be on Pender street.
I called. Apologized. And managed to somehow reschedule.
I road the bus back with my head between my legs. I wanted to crawl under my childhood bed in Nova Scotia. I wanted to disappear.
I hated myself.
I’m not sure I fully understood what that feeling actually was until I wrote it just now. But that’s what it was.
I hated myself for wanting what I want. I hated myself for consistently f*cking up. I hated myself for feeling like a child in an adults world.
I felt like I would always drive away what I wanted. Relationships. Success. Love. Belonging. Worth.
All of it felt SO far away.
On Monday I cracked, and although I had several incredible meetings with friend that should have put me back on track – and which did while I was with them – I’d wake up the next morning back at square one.
Today I had things under control… until I left my keys at the gym (I actually went today!) and had to find an hour I didn’t have going back to the gym and home again.
I felt like I couldn’t catch a break.
BREATHE… I’ve been holding my breath a week.
My friend Bob gave me some advice.
“Give yourself one hour everyday to feel afraid,” he said “and no more.”
I’ve realized that I let fear, anger, and insecurity run my life this week.
I can’t let that happen.
I feel like I compiled screw up on top of screw up all week. But actually that’s not true. I did a lot if things right… it’s just hard to see right now.
Thank god for good friends.