Turning point

I can’t do it. I’ve been trying to ignore that fact, but I can’t ignore it anymore. I. Just. Can’t. Do. It.

What’s “it”? It’s everything. All the things, all at once, all in a short time frame with little to no free time in which to do any of the things, let alone ALL of them.

What do I have to do? Well, let me tell you what’s been keeping me awake last night into this morning:

I have to clean. The house is a disaster.

I have to finish sewing two undergarments and about 70-80 more buttons before the new year, and still go to work all day Monday and Tuesday morning.

I have one writing deadline that’s rapidly approaching, plus other projects in the works.

I have to finish the piles of laundry that I sorted last weekend.

I have embroidery projects that are piling up.

I have scrolls to draw/paint/callig.

I have to take down all the Christmas decorations.

And, until about fifteen minutes ago, I thought I had to go out of town this weekend.

But I won’t. I can’t. Not if I’m going to maintain my health and sanity. It can’t happen. Something’s gotta break here, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let it be me.

I got less than an hour and a half of sleep last night. Why, you ask? Because I let myself go to a party that I knew I didn’t have the time to go to. Because I knew I had all these things to do, so once I got home from said party (at 11pm), I couldn’t stop thinking about these things. Because these things seeped into my subconscious and invaded my dreams. Because I woke up thinking how I needed to do all these things but was so overwhelmed that I couldn’t make myself start ANY of them.

No more. No more parties. No more extra shit. No more, not until I’m somewhat caught up. I can’t do it. It’ll kill me.

It’s time to admit that I’m at the point where I can’t be Mrs. Nice Guy. I have to be the mean one. I have to say “No.”

Today, I stand up for myself. Today, I say what I should’ve said a week or more ago. Today, I get started on that list up there, piece by piece, and take the time to prioritize and figure out what I can do now, what I can put off a little bit, and what I need to stay home and get done this weekend.

I was literally pulling my hair out trying to decide which crucial thing I should work on first. My stomach was in knots, churning as I tried to stop the panic long enough to focus on any one of the many things I have to do. I couldn’t think straight, because all I could think about was the myriad things that have to get done.

I’m going to take a deep breath. Stop for a few minutes. Calm down. And I’m going to start on the things that need to get done. I won’t get many (any, really) completely done before work, but I can start on some, and a start is more than I had.