ANXIETY

I have not had any longing to write in the past week or so. It's been an anxiety week, meaning that I've spent all my free time thinking about how I'm poor, unattractive and mortal. The combination is damning.

(Please don't tell me I am attractive. I am not fishing for compliments. With the mood I've been in, I'll just tell you that you're stupid for thinking that.)

This, I think, is the ugliest side of me. We all have a bad quality or two. For example, my best friend Dora gets really cranky if she hasn't eaten and my cat likes to wipe his poo-covered paws on me sometimes. My worst quality is the crippling anxiety that creeps up on me when I can't sleep at night. It turns me into a monster.

In case you're thinking that I'm making this up, have a gander at my thought process:

I wish I could sleep. Who needs sleep anyway? I'm going to be really unpleasant tomorrow if I don't get some sleep. But hey, I could die before I even get to work. Car accidents happen all the time. I'm not immune to car accidents. I backed into a girl's car at the bank just a couple of months ago. I'm such a failure at everything. I'm going to die someday. I hope I don't die before I turn 24. If I do, people will say, "And it happened right before her 24th birthday." Perhaps that'll be written on my urn. I hope I get a nice urn and not one of those thrift-shop vases. If I do get a thrift-shop vase, it needs to have character. 

These kind of thoughts trip me up so much that I have bouts of severe agoraphobia. I've sometimes found myself staying at home on weekends just to avoid dying outside. Sure, I could have a heart attack or be attacked by intruders at home. But the chances of a car accident significantly lowers by not actually driving.

That's been the focus of my anxiety this week, but sometimes it manifests over financial worries. Will I ever pay off my student loans? Will Gideon and I ever have enough money to take a big trip? Can I afford a new car in the next 10 years or should I just cut holes in the floor of my car once it croaks and ride around Flintstone-style?

I've found a solution to this anxiety: budgeting. When I start to worry about money, I budget for hours. Sometimes I do this while sobbing and drinking wine. It's a real party.

I hope I can blog a bit more than I have been. I really do enjoy it and I think one or two people enjoy reading it. My cat counts as people.

BLEH. I can't even find a way to end this post well. Should I be snarky? Should I say something meaningful?

No. I should just end poorly it like the failure I am. (I am also poor so it fits.)

The end.