Is it totally wrong to just want some time to do nothing? I don't think so, especially when I feel like I have been doing nothing but things for other people all week. This job is not something I'm doing for me and I can feel it, so it's not really any wonder I want to just do nothing significant today. And if it does end up being significant - whatever it is I do, it should be just for me. This is not selfish.

But instead of just relaxing and schlepping around the internets or through the delicious pile of books next to my desk, I've cleaned. The control freak in me is taking over and I've tidied and organized and scrubbed... because the tidiness of this house is something I can control. oh well, at least it's productive.

Last night I had a bout of uncontrollable crying. I had been feeling inadequate all day - the Whirlwind made it a point to point out how I was not the best kind of person for her position - I am not cut-throat and assertive like she is. (Not to mention that my mental recall, and ability to keep on top of things has recently been compromised.) Granted she wasn't doing it to be malicious - she was pointing out that I was the mutt in a dog-eat-dog world and that there were ways to get info, help, support etc, but she was her normal blunt and acerbic self about it which never makes me feel all that great. So when I got home I was understandably not in the best of moods. J wasn't either, having fought with the Evil Government People about his daughter again. (I've decided that perhaps offering any kind of suggestions is an activity in aggravation. He obviously doesn't want them.)

Anyway, we'd been playing WoW and J'd snapped at me over something that happened in the game. So I went to bed. I didn't feel like fighting with him about something that silly, especially considering all the other crap going on right now, but I could not stop crying - said crap having caught up with me I suppose but at the time I could not articulate what the matter was.

I honestly felt like I had some great weight pressing on my chest - a weight made of negativity. It was like a litany of 'not-good-enough' 'failure' 'inadequate' running through my head and it did not want to go away - and I tell you it really didn't help when J heaved this great sigh and asked me "why do you always do this when I have to get to sleep?" forgetting that the last few nights he'd wanted me to stay up and help him raid when all I really wanted was to pass out at 6pm. So I told him it was an attack of the nerves over the job - because it is scary but he assured me I'd do fine and not to worry while I attempted to quell the little black beast. After a couple more reassurances he rolled over and fell asleep - almost instantly, damn him. I lay awake for some time thinking, before exhaustion took over.

I honestly don't think I've felt this low since 2001 and we all know why that was. I feel pretty good today though, so I'm hoping last night was merely a release of pent-up anxiety, terror and whatever-it-was. Or perhaps I'm deluding myself and I should really drag my sorry ass back to the doctor. Goody gumdrops batman.

listening to: Faster, Kill Pussycat - Paul Oakenfold
eating: tortilla chips
find of day: porn for book nerds
feeling: somewhere between
headspace: a marshland

Labels: control freak, little black raincloud, not a workoholic