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ursulav

(no subject)

Another day, another...day.

I have been having a pretty rough time of it lately. Put simply, I'm a wreck.

This is annoying, because I am generally as stable and buoyant as a noble gas, and so I have few coping mechanisms in place for the alternative. My general flash-flood method of tension dispersal--cry hysterically for five minutes, wash face, exhale, get on with life--worked a lot better when there was somebody around to make comforting noises, and I am much too proud to do this to my friends. (This is a failing on my part, not theirs, I hasten to add--they've generally been super-supportive. I just can't shake the feeling that such things are the emotional equivalent of a mugging.)

It would be nice if knowing why one feels things allowed one to then opt out of feeling them. (Actually, that would be seriously awesome.) Unfortunately, you still tend to be stuck with it, you just get impatient with yourself. "Oh, god, are we still on THAT? Can't we get a new neurosis for a change?"

Me, I'm terrified. It's almost all fear. The move has been on the horizon for too long, I've had too long to mull it over, and while I suspect I'll be fine once I'm actually underway--"Yarr! Adventure! Look out, world!"--at the moment I am pacing the floors, running through the same terrors in my head, over and over again. What if I fail? What if I flounder? What if I have no friends? What if I make an idiot of myself? What if no one will ever love me again? What if I get rejected? What if I can never trust my instincts again? What if my career crashes and burns for no apparent reason? What if I can't get into a gallery/sell another book? What if I can't get health insurance? What if the cat explodes? What if, what if, what if?

Needless to say, this is not constructive. Or restful. I'm still losing weight, but now it's because the thought of food makes me queasy, which is a sure sign of misery. I'm down to a low size twelve and heading south. Nice, sure, but I generally would rather get there in less self-destructive fashion, and goddamnit, I just bought that pair of jeans...

My friends are long-suffering, some of them because I've built up pretty good credit, most of them probably because they realize this is an ultimately self-limiting masochism and will end in about ten days (or at least, I won't have internet for a few weeks, and thus cannot ambush them in the wee hours of the night.)

Sigh.

This, too, shall pass. Even if I make an idiot of myself and the cat explodes, I've still got another forty-odd years to make peace with it, and if my career crashes and burns tomorrow, I can always join the Peace Corps and go plant penguins in Africa or something. Or go stay with my parents for a bit and get a real job. Or...whatever.

I got through my divorce really quite well, if I do say so myself--there's plenty of emotional landmines lurking, I'm sure, but I was not destroyed by it, I did not unmake myself, and I reconstructed my life quite effectively on the other side. Thanks to some lovely friends--one in particular--I feel quite good about myself in general. And I know that this sort of feeling passes off soon enough. (In about ten days, actually.) It's almost silly to panic so brutally on the eve of the move, when it's the one thing that I am sure, beyond a shadow of a doubt, is absolutely the correct thing to be doing.

This, too, shall pass.

If it doesn't, I can always bloody well move back--I know I've got friends here, and if I'm miserable in California after six months (I'll give it six months minimum) I can always slink back here and slither back into the remnants of my old life. (Actually, I'll be back here at some point ANYWAY, since I have stuff here.) I doubt I'll have to. I'm sure before long, California will be a wild adventure and I'll wonder what the hell I was ever scared of.

Obviously it's the unknown. Lovecraft knew what he was talking about.

My grandmother would have handled this fine. She walked through life in the assurance that everyone loved her, and perhaps as a result, everyone did. She plowed ahead through love and terror and more marriages than a Vegas chapel and she was down and out any number of times, and she just kept on going. She was never afraid to throw herself into anything--moves, love, road trips, whatever. I have to be like that. (Okay, possibly without the marriages bit, although I admire her enthusiasm there.) I wish that I could do that, but I have not yet found the trigger for that particular latent DNA. (Or for that insane charisma, either. THAT I'd like to be able to get at. Sheesh.)

Oh, well. In a few months, I will look back and go "What was I ever scared of?" I know this. I know that you cannot fly without first jumping off a cliff, and this is merely--to mix my metaphors badly--my neurotic attempts to tie and retie the knots on the bungie cord before I jump.

This, too, shall pass.

*sigh*


*non-stalkerish internet hugs*

You may be miserable, but you still made me grin by suggesting planting penguins in Africa. If you can make other people laugh while you're miserable, gal, people are ALWAYS gonna want you around.

I hope no harm comes to Ben, but if he does explode, you should photograph it. For posterity, and teh intertubes. (Explodin cat iz explodin).

Good luck, you'll kick ass.

good luck. i doubt very much that Ben would allow himself to be exploded.

*hugs* Though you're very certain it shall pass, nevertheless, hugs are always good things to have.

*reassuring noises*

It's the waiting. You'll be fine when it happens, but meanwhile, it's the waiting.

*delurk*

Hold the line. Besides the friends you see, you've got hundreds of virtual folks pulling for you. You're smart and funny and imaginative. You have nothing at all to worry about in those areas; prioritize those fears next to exploding cats. Possibly below.

*relurk*

(no subject) (Anonymous) Expand
You mentioned earlier this week that the empty apartment is making you feel stressed. Change your environment to help change your attitude. In other words, GET THE HECK OUT OF THERE today. Go to a coffeeshop, take a sketchbook if you feel like it. Use the same observational skills you use birdwatching on people in public. Call/email/IM anyone local and take advantage of several standing invitations. Go to a movie. Check the Independent music calendar and go to a show tonight. Take a walk now that the weather is cool. Go.

Seconded. Take the time to do some things away from the apartment and the move stress that it represents.

If it helps at all, your grandmother was almost certainly terrified of her life at times.

Waiting is the worst part. As badger said, get out of the apartment and do whatever you can to help you keep your mind off of the waiting.

I'm sorry this sucks so much.

Believe me, your grandmother was probably afraid, even terrified much of the time. She just hid it well. It's the face/mask that we see, not the pounding of the heart that we hear. She didn't have LJ and so had to keep her fears and worries hidden.

If you need it, you have our blessing as well as our best wishes as you step out (off the plank) onto a new adventure. The safety net is there to be used if needed.

And, besides, it's not as though you're leaving us behind. Now, is it? :-)

She can run, but she can't hide!

*hugs*

Emotional mugging is perfectly acceptable as long as you are willing to be/have been the emotional muggee at some point. I've come to the conclusion that life/friendship/love works that way. Sometimes you're the one making comforting noises. Sometimes you're the one in pieces.

And as you know intellectually (but can't seem to tell your emotions - I know that one all too well!), you will get through this, it will be a good thing. Even if California turns out to be an unmitigated disaster (which I really doubt it will), you'll still have that change in perspective, along with something to add to the list of "never going to do that again".

You will win! I am sure of it, and Calif isn't really a scary place. (Okay there are those people with slidey hair and perfect tans, but you can hear them coming by the clicking of their 3 inch heels...)

And we will all still adore you and your work, and the fact that you still make people laugh even through your panic attacks, no matter where in the world you are!

People with tans creep me the hell out. Of course, I'm in the northwest, where tans are only achievable by lying in radioactive glowing coffins :D

The most charismatic people I've known have all, without exception, been the ones hiding the deepest insecurities. They just hid them very, very well. I would tend to doubt that your grandmother took everything in stride. She probably took many things in stride, and really was the face she presented to the world a good chunk of the time - but I can pretty much guarantee that there were other times when the face was a shield and a mask for all the stuff you're feeling now.

I don't know if that's a comforting thought or not. I find it comforting, really - yes, they're really like that, but not all the time, and there's no such thing as a person with no insecurities.

*nods* Though our situations differ, I feel the same lately. I'm completely terrified of becoming a mom for the first time ever.

I'm not even a "ooh! Look at the baby!" kind of person. I'm uncomfortable around kids. I can only assume it will all be different when I have my own kid, and part of me knows this. But then there's the part that's "OMG. I'm the Worst. Parent. Ever." part that - again - I'm told that passes as well.

Anywho, sorry to talk all about me. You'll be fine. I'll be fine. Everything will be awesome and fine (we hope). :-)

I would recommend some of the eps from Sex and the City, when Miranda is pregnant. She was a lot like you're describing. Of course, I just recommend that show in general, cause it's awesome!

Strength, Ursula!


(if I went through all this stuff at once, I think I'd probably be institutionalized. You're awesome :)

You'll do fine. Really. You're far too talented and awesome not to.