anxiety dump.

Time drags so slowly when there’s not much happening at work. (Of course now that I’ve said this, some work-related flaming disaster will rain down on me and I’ll beg for the boredom again.)

But for now, it drags, and there’s a few things I can do: I can go down a Twitter rabbit hole, marinating in election nonsense, finding things to get mad about and despair about (which takes no time at all, let’s be real). I could go into my Flickr account and do some organization. I could go through my inbox and start deleting. (Honestly, are you EVER going to read that article from the NYT from four months ago? Probably not.)  I could go down to the mini mart and get a bag of snack foods and eat my anxiety. (I literally sat here watching the clock from about 12:30 until 1:00 pm when I allowed myself my mid-afternoon snack of a KIND bar. I could’ve eaten it at 12:30 when I first thought about it but then I’d have to make it until 3:00, when I let myself eat lunch. This is my demented relationship with food. (I work from 11:00 am until 7:30 pm, so my food schedule is a little off from the norm.)

Emotional eating has been my primary coping skill for as long as I can remember, and the current state of the world makes it difficult for me to relieve my anxiety while not gaining 20 pounds. Nothing else works quite as well. I’ve been drinking more alcohol now (as opposed to hardly ever), but that’s not a really great strategy either. I don’t smoke. I could probably get a medical marijuana card from my doctor, but I’ve never been a weed person either. Maybe I should start. I don’t know. Then there’s the weed-related munchies, which is what I’m trying to avoid in the first place, so maybe not. I’ve been trying to do more yoga but I’m SOOOOOOO lazy more often than not it results in me flogging myself about not doing it instead of just doing it and then I flog myself about that. How did I ever get this old? It seems like I should’ve just died from inertia by now.

It occurs to me that 75% of my waking time is spent flogging myself about something. I know I’m not supposed to do that, and obviously said flogging is not helping me achieve whatever it is I think I should be achieving. I also flog myself about not knowing what I should be achieving, how meta. The snake eats itself. Better than eating an entire bag of Doritos, I suppose.

It’s almost 2:30 now. I’m going for a walk. Then when I come back I can eat my lunch and then I have to go to a meeting and pretend to care about things.

If you made it through this, congrats, you just experienced five minutes of my brain. Apologies.

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anxiety dump.