Long time no chat, eh?
Right, I know, that's my fault. I'm sorry.
Today, I COULD put up pics of things I've been doing- how my summer is going, pictures of the pool. Fun pictures from Pinterest that I think are notable and/or crafty. Pictures of awkward Kristen Stewart and how she and R. Patz are on the possible outs (sad? I know, me too)
Today, though, I think I'll just talk. Talk about something that's been floating in my mind for a few days. Weeks. Months.
A simple little word that I've learned is one our most delicate feelings. It can cause us to strive for more. Worry pushing us to be better; do better. A good kick in the pants, making us more productive. But, without control, it can burn like cheap, late night throat spray, singeing out ability to think, feel, and reason logically.
How do you handle worry? What kind of person do turn into? From what I gather, there's a few different types, right? We-ve all seen them. The "hand-wringer"- who can't make ANY kind of decision, the "chewer"- the person who thinks and chews on an idea, re-thinks, talks about, re-thinks again, etc. There is the "skinny" worrier- the girl whose problems are so severe she can't eat. What about "gastro-intestinal" worrier... well, lets not go there. And maybe lastly, the "over-medicated" worrier- the one who chews enough Xanax, you'd swear it was Halloween the way she's popping those "Sweet Tarts".
But, I'm not any of those. I think I'm a "duck and squat"- the one who has to curl up, be real still and cover their head, like some imaginary tornado is passing over them. Sort of a non-worrier. Right now, I'm in a tornado. I'm mid squat, covering my big, poufy hair, hoping and praying I don't get assaulted by thrown debris. My eyes are glazed over by new decisions I have to make or learn how to make. I feel weird. And trippy. And unable to answer most questions.
But you know, that's ok.
Its ok to be glazed over and not have the answers right at that moment. To be able to just shrug your shoulders, not knowing what to say.
It took me awhile to realize that no matter what kind of worrier you are, there WILL be a time where it will end. When you won't wring your hands, when you can go back to actually eating, and when I can stand up from my squat- that my storm, for the time being, is over.
It will come soon. I'm hanging in there. Even if it means that I have to squat to do so.