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roach in the pasta

5 Jun

I went to bed last night hardly as positive as I’d been at four that afternoon that I’ll get through these next two weeks without a nervous breakdown. But knowing that I’d once believed in myself, that hope was here, meant a little something. And that was going to keep me from suffocating under the weight of panic in my sleep.

One of the ladies at work is going on vacation later this week, so I’m shadowing her for a few days until she leaves and I am left to my own. And this is the biggest, most important thing in my life now, which makes me a combination of super-stressed and really depressed. Because I vaguely remember the summer between my junior and senior year in high school when I’d accidentally made plans to hang out with two different boys and a separate group of friends in the same day. THE SAME DAY. I thought my life was going to end, because it was critical that I get the one boy to like me as more than a friend, help the other boy to see that I cared for him but not that way, and show my other friends that my romantic life would not keep me from them. I survived–somehow–and only just barely. Responsibility makes me queasy, and it didn’t help my stomach that the world sabotaged everything I tried to eat yesterday. Sour tofu. Roach in the pasta. I gave up and went to bed hungry and discouraged.

The advice that says I should take these next two weeks one day at a time is annoying but true. If I think about tomorrow and worry about driving downtown or dealing with testy customers, I will find myself curled in a ball on the floor under my desk, deciding finally that I’d had enough and I don’t need this. But the money will be nice. That’s why I do this. This is not all.

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One Response to “roach in the pasta”

  1. Wendy June 5, 2012 at 8:56 pm #

    Just smile. Smile til it hurts. Then swear when they leave. Helps me!!!

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