I’m Judging Me

Anxiety is super judgy. It makes everyone stare at you, watching your every move.

Except, none of it is real and it’s all in your head. Your brain is the only judgy bitch in the room.

Today was Thanksgiving Lunch at school. Every year I have to force myself to go, and not be a total freak. Once again, Justin was unable to join me today, so I found myself going it alone. Which makes it worse. I can handle public situations like a boss when I have someone to hide behind.

Even though I fought with myself all morning (I don’t have to go. They’ll never notice), I sucked it up and went. Arriving early, just like they suggested. I signed in, grabbed my visitor sticker, paid, and when they called first grade parents, in I went.

I sat in a room full of strangers, proud of the face that I was doing it, and even though I hated it, I was here. The kids started pouring in. And then I realized what a terrible mistake I had made: Xander is in second grade. I was so busy making sure I survived this trauma, that I panicked and jumped the gun on actually going in.

While the first grade parents were locating their children, and the kindergarten parents were saying goodbye to theirs, I snuck out the door with my to-go container full of Thanksgiving Lunch. I hid the evidence of my failure in my car, took a deep breath and tried again.

Did I survive? Yes. Did I actually eat lunch with my kids? Well, no. But I was there.

As I headed out to my car at the end of it all, my brain announced, “good job–I knew you could do it.” Oh shut up, you judgy bitch. Where were you 2 hours ago when I needed the pep talk!?

Pass the Spoons

Our household goods were finally dropped off last Thursday. Even though we’ve completely unpacked our kitchen, we have no spoons–well, we have 1 spoon. And only 1/4 of our forks. Justin wants to give up on them. I am still holding out hope that we will discover the lost silverware in a random box somewhere.

Before we left Kentucky, our kids received their first quarter report cards. Xander’s read, “takes an unreasonable amount of time completing tasks.” Justin and I have laughed about it for weeks–especially since Justin announced, “if I could write you a report card for life, it would say, ‘takes an unreasonable amount of time completing tasks.'”

I can’t deny it. Justin has unpacked about 100 boxes (probably not, but maybe); I have unpacked about 7. Maybe more, but I don’t know. It’s overwhelming. I hate it. Once a day I think we should just leave the boxes packed and throw it all away. Of course, if we did that, we would never find the spoons!