Daily races, going nowhere

When I start thinking of everything on my to do list, all the chores, books, movies, web sites, writing, hobbies, exercise I could be doing instead of doing what I'm doing right now ... well, let's be honest ... I start to hyperventilate.  The possiblilites are infinite, time, is not.  I know I can't do it all.  I've never tried.

Sometimes I don't do anything because I know I can't accomplish it all.  Hello. Internet, you devious little distracting vixen.

I look at the to do list -- the one that isn't fun or distracting.  And its frustrating to feel weighed down by these tasks. Welcome to being an adult, I feel I can't do what I want.

Because I see the infinite amount of possibilities, and know I'm not always the best at allocating my time to fit in the most I can, sometimes, I say no.  I know my limits.

If I've said no to you, please don't take offense. It's not that you aren't important, but moreso, I want to give you 100 percent of my time or efforts.  It's annoying when people commit to something and back out last minute because they were overbooked.  Or someone's schedule is so full that they are too busy thinking/worrying about how they are going to get to the next thing that they do not enjoy what's in front of them in that moment.

I've seen it.  And I can't be that person.

The Walls would close in on Me

I have a confession to make.  I panic.  I am a panickier. (Look at that word.  Who came up with idea to put the 'K' in there?  And an 'I' in addition to the 'ER'? Strange.)

When something happens my mind goes to the worst case scenario and the sky might as well be falling because it's all over Charlie.

When I was younger I was a chronic worrier.  I would worry about everything -- so much that it physically made me sick.  I think I got over that between junior year of high school and sophomore year of college.  But what replaced it was my doomsday gut reactions.

Now that I'm responsible for myself and any financial consequences that the universe throws at me I can't help but to freak out at Every. Little. Thing.

I started wheezing last week and ohmigod, I was having an asthma attack.  It didn't dawn on me until the next day that it could possibly just be a chest cold.  It was a very long, sleepless night before I came to that conclusion though.

My oven stopped working and then came the mental calculations of how I was going to afford a new one, the anticipated stress of finding a new one and getting rid of the old one.

I wouldn't say I'm a hypochondriac because I hate these panic attacks and always have to talk myself out of them.  I also hate going to the doctor, that probably has something to do with it.

While for the most part I'm managing my panic okay, I don't know how to shut it off completely.  And once I get over that there will probably some other neuroses taking its place.

But just so you know, if I ever break a heel at a dance club, I'm going to be all Panic! At the Disco.  ..... :-)

Sorry, had to do it.