Lately, I'm beginning to think my super power is finding things to be anxious about. I'd like to think I wasn't always this talented, but the more I think back to the person I was in high school, college, early 20's...you know...life, the more I realize I probably was this talented but just didn't have a name for it.
But OH EM GEE. Lately!
This morning, I was journaling (as one does) through THINGS, trying to pinpoint the source of the anxious feeling gnawing at the pit of my stomach and saying to myself, "Self! Things are really great for you right now! Why are you not loving it?!" And so I journaled my way through THINGS, fully convinced that putting my finger on the source(s) of the anxious feelings would make them go away because when life is this good anything I'm feeling anxious about can't really be THAT bad, and so just putting a name to it would make it all better.
And the result? Well, the result was that I ended up feeling rather silly.
I spent the first half of my journaling lamenting about how I often get hurt feelings when I try to be friends with busy people because I experience love best in quality time and busy people often don't have that particular gift to give and how I should know better than to count on busy people to be close friends because of reasons. I then proceeded to spend the second half of my journaling saying how someone I've known for a while reached out to me to make lunch plans, and I'm all anxious over it because it seems like they must want to tell me some sort of earth-shatteringly bad news.
And that's when I realized that I'm anxious over people who don't have time for me and also anxious over people who ask to spend time with me, was overwhelmed by irony, and had to stop.
At least I was right?