Why are they so hard to keep? I almost have a stress-headache this morning, for numerous reasons. Even while I sleep I am anxious, having intricate dreams in which I mess up, let people down, run around breathless, make mistakes, etc.
And why do we take on so many responsibilities instead of just accepting our human-ness? (You'd think that was some model mum-career woman mix and not just lazy ol' me, who lives in her 30s as I should have lived in my early 20s, but with the amount of energy I spend on things that shouldn't even bother me, what difference does it make?).
I have to leave home soon, rush to work (haha, rush, as if there wasn't glorious golden fall outside - supposed to start raining today, as is normal in the NL, but when the weather is good, it's hard to imagine otherwise - and my communte involved a 10-15 minute walk through a gorgeous park and a bridge over a canal and an old city. Where no boss awaits me at my job, and if I knocked on any of my bosses' doors they would be nothing short of understanding and kind and full of humor. Did I mention that my super wants to take me rollerblading around the lake when I come back from Italy next week? And my day involves a lunch date to discuss my work, reading several things, writing several things, inserting one kind of data file into a power point presentation... when after work I have a choice between going for drink with P. and his nice friendly international collegues, to hitting the gym again before dinner and the weekend begins, and during the weekend all I have to do is buy gifts for C. and my dad and mum and sister in law for Jewish New Year's and various birthdays; why in God's name am I so stressed then?)
I know the answer of course. It relates to my previous post, regarding the amorphous threat of the future, which I can do nothing about. Why should I worry then? And how will worrying improve my condition except add wrinkles to my still-smooth face (I can't seem to stop with the 1-2 cigarettes a day with P., so at the very least I should stop fretting like this. It's increasing my blood pressure, stiffening my neck, making me feel as though I am about to get a cold).
I know that my stress has nothing to do with recent events in my life and goes way deeper, to my childhood, to events which I percieved as neccessitating flight-or-fight action (which I took, big time), to guilt that I felt over things that were completely out of my control and that I could have done nothing about, not merely as a child, but also as an adult. I know this by now... but sometimes it's hard to remember, and let it go, and let it flow, and realize, blissfully, that not everything is in my hands, at all. For example, whether P. untimately admits that he is in love with me or not, whether he allows it to happen, is completely out of my hands. As is everything else. And now I have to go out into the stunning automn and the freshest air I have tasted (you can literally taste it) anywhere. So bye for now. I might update some more later...