Just ignore this post - I have angst

It's 4:30 in the morning so a lot of this probably won't make sense.  I hope to post again later today and maybe no one will read this one.  I probably shouldn't even be writing, but I can't sleep and I know it's because there is so much swirling in my head and it needs to come out.


For the past two days I have been struggling with small bouts of anxiety.  I hate to even call it that because these feelings are so worthless they don't even deserve to be named, but I know that tight feeling in my chest.  I've been on the verge of crying for two days straight and that's not me.  I want to leave the house but the thought makes it hard to breathe.  I give myself a pep talk, tell myself not to be silly and I end up leaving but all I can think about while I'm gone is how much I want to be home.  I've gotten a couple of projects that normally I'm excited about undertaking, but I'm scared of them.  Even as I know that's ridiculous and the rational side of me is saying to snap out of it, I can't.


I recently purchased a chair for the sitting room but it has sat untouched because it has a lot of fabric on it.  I've never recovered more than just the seat of a chair and I'm intimidated by that.  It also has piping, which terrifies me.  I'm so scared of ripping it apart and not being able to put it back together.  I was scared to even buy it but I did it anyway, psyching myself up, telling myself that I could do it.  I even told myself if it doesn't work, no big deal - it only cost me $15 so it's no huge loss.  Even with all that positive self-talk, I've yet to remove one staple.


I also finally pulled the trigger and bought a sewing machine.  I spent the day with Kristina on Saturday and she taught me the basics.  I've dreamed of learning to sew for years, honestly since I was a little girl.  I had fantasies of pinning and sewing and creating beautiful things to wear, of modestly smiling when someone complimented something I made.  Kristina is a great and patient teacher and with her help I made a partial bandanna for Maya.  I didn't finish it because I'd been at her house the whole day and I was freaking out about having left Maya in her crate for so long.  She loaned me some sewing books with easy patterns and even sent me a coupon for Jo-Ann Fabrics - she's such a great friend.


My new kick-ass sewing machine is still in the box in my closet, along with that half-finished bandanna and all the sewing books because I ambitiously read one of the books and nearly started crying because it was so detailed and overwhelming - and it was a book for beginners!  I was already scared of breaking my machine and after reading that perfectly harmless book I never want to touch it again.  I haven't given up on learning to alter my own clothes so they fit perfectly or even making something beautiful for myself or my friends, but it seems that there's a giant obstacle between me and that goal - this stupid, irrational fear.


I try to stay busy - I went out last night, I hung out at my girlfriend's pool today and I even cooked this evening to distract myself.  Yet, here I am at almost five in the morning, unable to sleep because I want to finish that bandanna but I'm intimidated by my sewing machine.  I want to get started on that chair but I'm scared.  How ridiculous is that?  What the hell is wrong with me?


I tell myself that this is just a raging case of the hormones.  I'm supposed to start a week from tomorrow so it really could be just that.  I don't normally feel anxious about dumb stuff and this has only been for the past couple of days.  I just wish it would hurry up and go away - seriously, what kind of person is scared of a sewing machine?


And for the record, I'm not afraid it's going to eat me or anything and it's certainly not talking to me.  It's quite logical - I spent a lot (to me) of money on it and I'm unsure of how to use it and I'm terrified of breaking it, thereby throwing that money down the drain.  See?  I can identify the cause of the issue but unfortunately it doesn't do much to get me to take the damn thing out of the box and finish the damn bandanna.  I know all I need to do is grab a screwdriver, pull one staple out of that chair and just keep on going, yet I feel powerless to do it.  It shouldn't matter if I screw it up, I can leave it out for the trash (the chair, not the sewing machine) and go on with my life, yet for some stupid reason I can't.


I also know I'm fixating on these minor issues because the bigger issues are so much bigger.  At the risk of sounding like a drama-queen douchebag, I feel like I'm drifting or floating - and not in a good way.  For one thing, not working is killing me.  I need a routine and the sense of purpose, no matter how small, that comes with having a job.  I need a reason to leave the house.  And again, it's not like I'm not showering and the house is a mess or that I'm not taking care of my hair.  Y'all will know to send the cavalry if I ever say that I haven't washed my hair.


At this point, I would like to have a job and I don't even care if I would only get to work for a couple of months before we'd have to move.  If we even move.  When we move.  Wherever we're going to move.  There are now talks about a possible move to South Carolina, which would be much more preferable to San Jose but I'm not getting my hopes up.  It's just the uncertainty of it all that sucks - out loud.


I'm one step away from applying for jobs at the mall - and I hate retail.  The only reason I won't go back to the restaurant industry are the hours - I'm too old and out of practice to be staying up until two and three in the morning on the regular.  Yet I'm not walking into J. Crew just yet because the thought of asking for and filling out an application makes me nauseated.  Writing down my pathetic work history and reducing myself to a job title so I can make $10/hour makes me want to cry.  Yet, you get tough and do what you have to do, right?  I look back at all the shit I've been through and I'm kind of ashamed that I've gotten to this point, where I'm too weak to humble.  Although, again I'm pretty sure I know how I got here.


Not being able to have kids has taken a terrible toll on my self-esteem.  I feel like if I can't have kids and I don't have a job I don't really have a purpose in life.  Beckie did a great post that really resonates with me and how I'm feeling and if you're so inclined, you can read it.  I just feel like I don't matter anymore and I never used to feel that way.  I think we need people to depend on us to make us feel present or relevant.  Without that, you just drift - in my opinion.


...


I can't even cry properly - the tears well up, my throat clogs and I feel thankful that I'll have a release.  I'll have a good, snotty cry and when I'm done I'll get up, take that damn machine out of that damn box and finish that damn bandanna.  I'll flip over that damn chair and start taking out those damn staples.  Because that's what I normally do - a good cry is very healing.  Yet the tears recede, my throat clears and I feel no better.


Ugh, I have to stop.  I'm annoying myself with all this whining.  I'm not this person and I hate feeling this way.  I'm not weak and wimpy and the real me always stands back up after getting knocked down.  


I just don't get why I can't seem to get my feet under me this time.