It’s been a hard week, or two, for a few reasons, Gentle Reader, including, but not limited to, the recent anniversary of my mother’s death, shortly followed by Mother’s Day, all coinciding with the end of the semester.
See, I don’t do well when I’m off of work. I’m a workaholic; it helps me focus on something other than anxiety, and when I’m off work–that is, completely off work, not working on an article or anything–I slowly but surely lose my mind.
So it’s been a while since I’ve blogged, but I haven’t felt like blogging, or doing much of anything except Facebook and listening to music in anticipation of my upcoming trip to ALASKA. Who freaks out about a vacay, you ask?
*raises hand*
I do.
I haven’t had a vacation in 11–11!–years. And it’s upon me. I am experiencing every aspect of anxiety that’s possible. And it’s in danger of ruining said vacay.
I know it’s half chemical/half learned behaviors. I’m set on the chemical part, but I need to work on my learned behaviors. It’s what control I have in the little control I do have in this world over my anxiety. I can change learned behaviors.
So I’m trying.
Wish me luck, Friends.
The Postmodern Bluestocking 