Saturday, October 24, 2015

Little Worries = Big Energy Drain

I have been stuck knee-deep in the land of limbo for the better part of this past week.

The inability to make snap decisions and let things go have had me frozen in one spot with the most inane of worries cycling through my mind on auto repeat throughout the day. Then I wake up in the morning and the answers I expect to find, through my subconscious thoughts directing me while I sleep, have not come to me.

I started the week with four places of business to call, so I could follow up on that-which-was-left-unfinished at the end of last week. I have forgotten what one of the items was, two have been dealt with and filed away. The last item (which has been haunting me for ten days now), is still pending.

Then "life" happened and I seem to be unable to make the simplest of decisions.

One of those decisions was taken out of my hands yesterday afternoon. It was as simple as asking. I hate asking the person who never says no. The same person who always goes out of their way to accommodate others. And while that person is going out of their way and accommodating your every need, they also go above and beyond the call of duty. I didn't want to ask "that person" because I am already so indebted to them.

But I asked. And the answer was (of course) "Yes!" and let us come out of our way to accommodate you and while we are there, we insist we take you out for supper. "No arguments!"

Aaaaack! You just can't lose with some people. They swoop in and give more in one afternoon than you give back within a lifetime.

With that worry off my plate, you will never guess what my biggest dilemma is now. "To wash my hair or NOT to wash my hair." That, is the question.

I have reached the wonderful age of not having to wash my hair more than once a week, IF I don't use any hair products OR work outside OR stand outside on a windy day OR run my hands excessively through my hair.

I washed and colored my hair on Tuesday. Today is Saturday. This means I have three more "good hair days" left in me. But I have two social outings. One tonight. Another tomorrow.

The math is, if I wash my hair this morning it may or may not look as good as it does at this very moment. But the chances of it looking better by tomorrow are good. My hair looks its best at about "Day 3" of this whole hair washing cycle. I am trying to move my hair-washing-day back to Thursday night or Friday morning so I don't have to face this dilemma over the weekend.

If I wash my hair, I may as well turn the clock ahead an hour and count it as "lost time" on a precious weekend where every moment counts.

"This" is why I don't like to wash my hair on a weekend. The emotional and physical drain on my resources is too much for me.

It is no wonder my sister insists they take me out for supper. She knows the pressure I am under. She understands bad hair days like no other. She knows me better than I know myself and she is trying to relieve all the pressure she can. Even when there is really no reason to feel pressured.

I feel like I have been living in a pressure cooker all week. Pressure is created initially by boiling a small amount of worry inside the closed pressure cooker (aka: my brain). The trapped emotional turmoil increases the internal pressure and temperature. After a week, the pressure is slowly released so that the door to the big, scary world outside can be safely opened and one can venture out and do hard things.

After today, I can finally wipe off the very last item on my things-to-do list on the whiteboard on our fridge. This will be the first time my whiteboard has been fully erased since August 5th. Yes, I know the date. It was a date I set another "date with destiny" and my calendar has not been empty since.

I don't have the energy to "save the date" any more. I like to wing it, go with the flow, say "yes" to spur-of-the-moment decisions. This whole "making plans" and committing messes with the natural order of things. One starts to worry and fret over all the wrong things when life steps in and throws you a curve ball. I think I'd rather be hit and knocked over by that curve ball than try to hit it.

I must move and do more hard things. Now, I must come up with two appetizers to bring along with me to tonight's date-with-destiny. I suppose the crackers that expired in 2011 are a no go, huh? Maybe I'll stick with the freshly bought cream puffs and Cheddar JalapeƱo Cheetos instead ...

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