Further tales in the neurotic beliefs of yours truly... I cannot find something. And because I cannot find it I am frantic with cleany-ness.
I have taken apart the organization of my shelves in my room and redone the storage for my beading projects.
(I knew the thing I was looking for was NOT in the beading stuff.)
I have taken all of the clothes out of my drawers and sorted them into summer, winter, and "dear god, what is that thing?" Then found some cool dividers for my drawers, hung up a bunch of stuff and rearranged all of my clothing.
(I knew the thing I was looking for was NOT in with my clothing.)
I have moved the couches and shoveled out a cubic yard of dirty socks, old homework papers, library books, missing knitting needles, Lego people, beads beads beads, dust rhinos, and an inexplicably wide variety of baseball caps.
(I was pretty sure the thing I was looking for was NOT under the couch.)
I think I am afraid to look in the place where I last saw the missing item. Because I already looked there casually and didn't find it. And if I look there exhaustively now and do NOT find it, there goes the last of my hope.
And somehow, the loss of this thing has become an indictment on my worth as a human being.
And if I cannot find it, there is proof that I am Not Worthy. And if I do find it, there is proof that I am Acceptable. (Have I mentioned that my ancestors were puritans and calvinists?)
In order to not make this frantic search even more frantic and ridiculous and bordering on being a "mood episode" I am taking breaks. I am limiting the scope of my destruction. I will visit a friend later today. And I will acknowledge the absolute RIDICULOUSNESS of tying my sense of self to whether or not I can find some THING.
I'm pretty sure that I am actually panicking about something else and just foisting off all the panic onto this search.
What am I actually panicking about? I couldn't tell you.
How are you supposed to know if the panic that you are experiencing is just the panic on the surface or if there is something deeper? If someone asks you to dig deeper, you can always find something, but is that right?
Sometimes I feel like a panic-filled human-shaped balloon. Held together by stress and anxiety. A nameless, creeping dread.
Quaker, teacher, parent,