I thought I did the right thing yesterday. I took care of enough of my social media life to create space today to do things for myself. As a consequence, I woke in a sick-stomach anxiety that isn't wearing off.
Me? I don't do "me," contrary to what blogging suggests. Any readers who are new to this blog can go back and see how sparsely I actually post except for this Lenten promise. What did I do in the months between blogs? I did my social media gig, walked dogs, hid in books or reality television (bring on The Shahs of Sunset!). Sometimes I was working on Love Sick. But it beats the hell out of me what I was actually doing beyond hiding from myself and plotting paying down my debts.
I will say that blogging and my failing willingness to say the rosary have kind of woken me up. I'm still deep in re-watching House but it's mostly because after a day of tweeting, pinning, posting, researching, Googling and trying to make rain, my back hurts from my shitty chair.
No, wait. That's not quite true. That's why I lie down. Watching House is escaping things like reading the Gospel accounts of the Passion or any of the other reading research I should be doing for "me".
So here I am, 15 minutes away from the first dog walk of the day with pretty much the whole day wide open to -- what?
I'm overwhelmed with the what and I don't do well when there's so much to do. I panic. I hide.
There are things for the rosary proposal I can do now, like explaining what it is to non-Catholics/Christians.
There is work I need to do in advance of Love Sick. Start a Pinterest page. Write some proposals to websites and other publicity venues. Update my webpage.
I want to start a story about someone under the influence of a cult. The cult is not the story, only background. It would be the seed of a novel.
I have a half dozen emails from friends and family I need to attend to.
There is housework to be done.
A lot of what I'd like to propose to other `zines depends on blogging for Psychology Today. I have two ideas to pursue for them. I should get going.
I have a lot of books to read in research.
So I'm twisting on the end of a string here, going around and around, unable to prioritize. I could take all these things and put them in a hat, pull one out and try really hard to ignore the siren call of the others that feel equally in need of tending.
Or I could walk Honey Bear and bury myself in bed with Greg House, telling myself I'll tend to something later.
And this?
Is how I make myself crazy.