I surprised myself this week. With everything that I've been through, all the ups and downs that life has thrown at me, I've been really careful with myself these past two years. Careful not to put too much on my plate or give myself more than I can handle. But I realized this week that I am more than capable, and I'm not as fragile as I used to be. I’m strong.
This week I:
Spent my entire Monday with friends, cooking food and watching Wet Hot American Summer.
Worked at the library, as per usual.
Babysat on Wednesday, which is usually my day off. (I will be doing this every Monday and Wednesday for the next month or so.)
Helped with some writing for Peaks Coffee Co.
Got my car inspected.
Made my birthday list. (At my mom's request)
Watched The X-Files with a friend.
Got a lot less sleep than usual.
I don’t know why that all seems really significant to me, but for some reason it does. I mean, usually in any given week I’ll work, do a little writing, and then have nothing but spare time in between to overthink and overanalyze and generally be completely alone with my thoughts. For a long time I thought I needed that time. And I think I do, to some extent. But this week I proved to myself that I can get by without it, and I won’t become a total mess. I have this constant, nagging fear that one day I’ll slip up…and revert back to being the person I was in high school. A person that I hated. She was an anxiety machine, she was never happy, and she was never satisfied with herself. I don’t want to be that person ever again. So part of me probably thought that if I just didn’t do a lot, if I was never stressed, I wouldn’t become that again. But after this summer of stress and anxiety but also joy, I think it’s safe to say I’ve outgrown that person. I’m much more equipped to handle stress. It’s not the end of the world for me anymore. No longer does being stressed equal being unhappy. And if I do say so myself, that’s pretty significant.