Outwardly, I appear to be relaxing on my couch at the moment. Internally, it's a very different story. I typically handle stress fairly well, I've been balancing multiple jobs and raising two kids by myself for years, so it takes more than some might expect to frazzle me.
Sure, I might react quick and hot to something, but within minutes I've got it under control and it's business as usual. On rare occasions, however, it feels as though I'm underwater and frighteningly close to gasping in water for air. The worst part about it is it is almost always due to my own choices.
I'm a doer. By every sense of the word, I seem to have this unstoppable urge to commit to far more than anyone should within a given time frame. I wouldn't say over-achiever describes me so much as just not able to say 'no'. I was going to put this blog post off for the night, due to other pressing obligations, but I can't even say no to myself. This is a problem.
There are some forms of stress that I almost thrive on, but right now I'm not experiencing a period of growth from pushing myself — I'm enduring the preliminary stages of anxiety brought on by having an impossible list of to-dos this weekend. I have made a career out of running myself ragged, but every so often I manage to up the ante without even realizing I had already wagered more than I could deliver.
In the end, I know that I will get everything done, but this time round that knowledge has done little to quell the urge to run away and not adult again until I'm good and ready. For now, it seems I'll be coaxing myself along in half-hour increments, hoping that will bring me to the finish line with some of my hair still intact.
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