Right now I'm going to turn on some motherfucking Enya and get real chill with this shit. Because you know what? The stress levels are killing me right meow, and I just need a goddamn breather. Namsayin? Too much work, too many people needing things from me, too many expectations of me, and too many days of the week spent on work and not enough living life. SO ENYA IT IS, BITCHES.
Seriously, though. Too many tabs open in my brain. I've taken on a couple of freelance gigs here and there, which I don't fully understand because WHAT? I don't have the brain juice for that. I'm tired. And all I'm really interested in right now is simple things. Like listening to Enya on a Wednesday night and eating this leftover fudge that WILL NOT GO AWAY. I swear to god it's regenerating itself. And also, it's getting hot in Seattle, which means I'm angry 99.987% of the time. I know what you're thinking--what? It's gorgeous! 75 degrees is great! WRONG. 45 degrees is great. Jackets are great. Sweaters and sweatpants are great. Snow is great. Curling up and listening to Enya is great. Sun? Not great.
So between the impending doom of summer and the too many tabs open in my brain's browser, I'm just pretty damn cranky. I'm restless. I'm not satisfied with life but also not willing to make the changes I need to make to quit being such a dingus. Like, why the hell am I still following Lauren Conrad on Instagram? And why is there only strawberry jam and soggy apples in my fridge? I ate frozen broccoli for dinner and refuse to throw out these old, wilted peonies that smell like weirdly alcoholic hot dogs. And in the mornings, I hit snooze AT LEAST 6 times before rolling out of bed. And usually I can't even roll out of bed--I sit up, stretch, and then lie back down at the bottom of the bed to spoon with Pagoda for another 10 minutes. I am not a functional adult at the moment. It's bananas. It's gotta stop, but I don't have the energy.
What if all I want to do is listen to Enya's 1988 seminal classic Watermark and eat cheese? Or just watch Broad City reruns? I just want Ilana's hair and flazeda self confidence (any #TeamPearl fans out there? Flazeda? She better win next week).
I talked with my therapist for over an hour tonight about stress and expectations and why I hate feedback so much and why I cry in the bathroom every day at work. Turns out I have a real fear of failure and disappointing people--SURPRISE! (Said no one ever.) I knew this about myself yet didn't really. Or at least I didn't realize it was all coming to light again. I don't really feel like I'm in my rational mind most of the time lately because all I can think about is this crushing fear that I'm disappointing EVERYONE. Maybe that's why all I can do is listen to Enya and eat cheese. If I do that, I don't really disappoint anyone. And there's no chance to feel vulnerable or like I fucked up or like I need to pack up and get the hell out of the big city.
It's heavy. And I feel heavy. And not like the good heavy like the Beatles song "She's so heavy" or the Hollies song "He's not heavy, he's my brother" kind of heavy. Like the shitty i-want-to-crawl-in-a-hole-and-die heavy because it's too scary to go outside and face it all. My therapist tells me to set boundaries and let people deal with their own disappointment because it's not my problem. Maybe I'll make myself a t-shirt like Bob Wiley's, but instead of "Don't hassle me, I'm local," it will say, "Don't hassle me, I'm working on my fear of failure issues." Doing it. Etsy, here I come.
My therapist also gave me a list of some basic personal rights people are entitled to. The relevant ones to my current stressed out brain status include:
- I have the right to not have to anticipate another's needs or wishes
- I have the right to not take responsibility for another's pain or problems
- I have the right to say no and refuse requests
But my favorite one?
- I have the right not to follow the advice of others.
Which sounds unrelated, but is actually quite related. I have a lot of voices telling me which way to go right now, none of which are jiving with my authentic self. Too many cooks in the Amy Morby kitchen, ya'll. And I'm over it.
On that note, I'm going to peace out to "Sail Away" because it's the best Enya jam of our time. I would advise you to do the same, but remember--you totally have the right to refuse my advice there. But it's your loss. Jussayin.
I'll leave you with some photos of our trip to Larabee State Park back in April. We camped near the beach and hiked up to Fragrant Lake. We came, we saw, we put macaroni salad on our Tofu Pups and imbibed in the fern-gully splendor that is the PNW. I'm hoping to camp every weekend from here on out, so get ready for way more Vanagon photos than you ever signed up for.