Oh, Taylor Swift. Your lyrics continue to resonate with me like a soccer mom with a secret crack addiction. Decided today, after feeling like the literal weight of the world – nay, the solar system – was on my back (between my shoulder blades), that the next time I get paid I am splurging on a massage. I don’t normally make it rain on such things, but I’ve been so tired and stressed out lately that I think it’d be a good idea for myself and those around me. (Seriously, ask my co-workers.) No word on the MRI yet, but… I’m not done yet.
Posts Tagged: stress
Headed downtown to see Ray LaMontagne. It’s 60 degrees. It’s December. Work was super long, and I am hoping that sharing space with a bunch of people who also enjoy large acoustic settings will calm me down. Alcohol may help too. *shrug* Have a good night, everyone.
It recently came to my attention (as in, just now) how easy it is for me to shut everything out around me when I am stressed. The following is going to be a whole lot of WAAAAAing. Ready? I really, seriously, need to put breaks on this Amanda-mobile. I’ve spent the evening zoning out to Netflix and eating chocolate chips from a bag. I mean, that’s not even dinner. That’s chocolate. And it’s great and all, but what the hell am I doing? I spilled a bottle of water on the floor and it took me two hours (TWO HOURS)… I’m not done yet.
There’s still wine and chocolate. Thank God. Will work half a day tomorrow, pick up my stuff for the Hot Chocolate 5k (I think I’ll actually make it to this one!), and then… KICKBOXING! I really am excited. I can’t promise that I’ll be any good at it, considering it’s been missing from my life for a whole three weeks, but… let’s just say it’ll feel good to punch things. Love, peace and happiness to all, everywhere in the land!
Not gonna lie – almost forgot to write in this. “In” as if this is some kind of diary, and I am 13-years-old. While I act like I am 13, I recognize that this is NOT a diary. It’s closer to a LiveJournal, but it’s not a diary. Right now, I’m just in full stress mode. Quiet? Sure. Calm? Almost. Fucking stressed to the point I want to sleep all day long? You betcha. Trying to remind myself that all of this shall come to pass soon. The marathon I worked 20 weeks for (sometimes really hard, sometimes not so… I’m not done yet.