Life is Busting out ALL Over!

No wonder Grumpy was my favorite of the seven dwarfs

Posted on: July 1, 2008

I don’t think I’ve ever been a positive person. Was it the Care Bear that used to be followed by a raincloud?? Whatever his name is, I GOT HIM. Oscar the Grouch, as a kid, thought he was ugly but I got it. I can fake positivity EXTREMELY well, but I don’t fake it well enough to believe it. I hate that eventually every good feeling I have turns into a Negative Nelly stream of consciousness that can be to compared to starting with a hydrogen atom and ending up with the Atomic bomb. (I am not sure if this makes sense scientifically, and honestly I don’t care. SEE WHAT I MEAN?!)

I think it’s because of my gut, my gut is usually right. I don’t want my gut to be negative right now, not about this thing. But I can’t stop, I took a nap this afternoon just to turn my brain off. I have been watching my phone for the call all day and finally had to put it away.

I hate this feeling. Whatever the outcome, I KNOW I will be okay. I KNOW I will end up in the right place. But I’m sick of going through hell to get there. I’m sick of nothing ever being easy for me. This sounds so childish, I know. I also consider and mostly appreciate taking the hard way because it’s so me, but I’m so OVER IT. I also know I have no reason to worry… yet. But I do, and it’s crappy and my fog can’t save me this time.

I worry that I’ve done this wrong, I’m still thinking about answers to interview questions I didn’t think about at the time. I worry that I’ve spoken too much about it, gotten too excited. Imagined my life there too intensely that it’s waiting to fall. I even tried to put The Secret (which I DESPISE) into use and can’t even believe in that long enough to stop the negative thoughts.

I just came from outside and saw an ant on the ground and literally thought as the ant was “running” in circles, “Wow, it must be nice to be an ant. They don’t need money, they don’t have to job search. They live in the outdoors and do what they have to do and that’s it.”


But I made the mistake of calling my mom to talk it out and get some encouragement, which after 30 years I should have learned is the totally wrong thing to do. I love her but man, she sucks at encouraging me. A lot of words and empty promises and the knowledge that she can’t relate to me, makes for one bummer of a conversation. Which led to wishing to be an ant.

Strangely, now I feel better.


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musings and panic attacks of a Chicago girl embarking on a new life in Texas. Only it's not always June and it's not in song.

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