I apologize to the five readers of this blog (which would be me and… okay, so maybe it’s just me) about not posting Friday Finds yesterday. Yeah, yeah, I know — no one cares, anyway. Well, I do. So suck on that.

Honestly, I didn’t feel like digging through my Etsy favorites last night. It’s been a rough week — or however long it’s been — and mainly I just feel like lying around the house, reading, and having inner dialogs such as, “Should I bake something? I think I should. But what? I dunno. I’ll have to go to the store. I don’t want to go to the store. I’m going to look up diseases on Wikipedia instead.”

The big thing that’s going on is that I have been stressed out of my mind, so stressed out that my brain has basically shut down in protest. I can’t focus, and every time I try to do things I need to, I just… can’t. I will become so overwhelmed that I just sit there. My anxiety is off of the fucking charts, and I have been sick to my stomach for several weeks now. Some days I can eat just fine, and others I can’t even think about food. I’m usually sick to my stomach several times at night, which is when my anxiety is worst.

I’ve had several epiphanies in the past few weeks. I came up with this analogy this morning, and it may be lame, but if I can visualize something, I will remember it. Basically, my life is a plane, and I’m the pilot. I’m sitting in the cockpit, and I’m fine, and I have total confidence in myself. Then we take off, and I start to worry about crashing. I become so consumed with the fear that I can’t focus on what I’m actually supposed to be doing, and I start trying to find evidence of the impending crash. So I become hyperaware of my surroundings, trying to find something wrong so that I can fix it or at least am aware of it. Eventually I become so convinced that I’m going to crash, that I just go, fuck it, and I crash the plane on purpose because I’ve decided I am incapable of doing what I need to, and I just can’t deal with the fear any more.

There’s this term in therapy, self-fulfilling prophecy, and that is exactly what’s going on. I’ve convinced myself that I am going to fail at everything, so I just sit here and basically sabotage myself. School, work, relationships, whatever — I’ve convinced myself I suck at all of it. And, the thing is, I may have in the past, but I’m not the person I was a couple of years ago. I’m fairly comfortable in my own skin and with myself in general. I know that I’m a pretty emotionally mature, smart person, and that I have the capability to do just about anything I want to. I’m not saying that I’m perfect because God knows I have my moments, but I’m usually pretty damn rational about things. So when I find myself picking things apart because I’m so convinced that I fucked up, I want to scream at myself, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, YOU FUCKING IDIOT?!

I mean, seriously, fuck this dumb shit. Fuck being passive. Fuck not believing in myself. Fuck looking for problems that aren’t there. Fuck doubt. Fuck people who have screwed me over and have altered my outlook on life. And fuck me for sitting here and taking all of it.

I’m done with it. I’m done being anyone but who I want to be.