I’ve eaten close to 2 lbs of halloween candy today because when it comes to candy I have no chill. None. Zero. I can feel like death warmed over and it wouldn’t matter. Hell I do feel like death warmed over and I’m still shoveling candy in my face hole. Some day my kids will be in therapy with trust issues because each Halloween they went to bed with a bucket full of Reeses peanut butter cups and hope and woke up the next with dum dums and disappointment.
This year has been particularly bad for any number of reasons, one the biggest being I’m now home with the candy bag all. fucking. day. My willpower is questionable at best so it should really be no surprise that I lasted all of 2 hours before I broke that baby open and ate all the things (ok fine, half the things…credit where credit is due).
I’m also still adjusting to not being weird about the state of my chaotic, messy house. Problem. Trying not to be weird is, in fact, making me even weirder. For example I’m now projecting all of my self judgment onto my husband and find myself irrationally irritated with him for judging me and our house, except that he 100% is actually not judging me . IT IS LITERALLY ALL IN MY HEAD (apologies to my husband but that’s kind of what you get when you marry someone with a proven track record of being completely neurotic).
The last bit that has me falling face first into Candy Land is all the fear I have about writing. The last few days have me questioning everything…this blog, my stories, writing a novel…I’m afraid of sharing too much and being the weird oversharer creepy lady. I’m afraid of not sharing enough and being inauthentic. NANOWRIMO* officially starts in 28 minutes and I’m afraid that my story idea is really, really, really dumb. I’m afraid my idea isn’t even enough to fill 5,000 words let alone 50,000. I submitted an article for publication consideration and haven’t heard back yet so I’m afraid what I wrote was a pile of crap. I’m simultaneously afraid that they’ll actually publish the damn thing despite it being a pile of crap and then everyone will realize just how crappy a writer I really am.
What it boils down to is I’m afraid everything was one giant mistake and I should just go back to an office job where I can be paid decent money to do whatever and I can forget about this writing crap and how UNBELIEVABLY uncomfortable I feel. I hate being a novice and I’m the novice-iest of novices (I word good on a sugar high). So really this post has no other point beyond a.) hammering it in a little more just how much I need my therapist and b.) owning that old habits die hard and as much progress as I’ve made, apparently stuffing myself stupid with potentially poisonous levels of sugar remains my prime coping mechanism.
*NANOWRIMO – National Novel Writing Month is basically committing with a bunch of other idiots to write a 50,000 word rough draft of a novel in the month of November. Because November wasn’t already full enough with multiple races, birthdays and, oh yeah, I’M HOSTING FREAKING THANKSGIVING.