The water in the pool was 86 degrees tonight. Thank goodness, because I really needed a relaxing swim. Actually, it wound up being more of a “slalom swim,” since for some reason, the concept that “three or more people in a lane must swim in a counterclockwise direction” is far too difficult for most of these people to grasp… but I’ll take whatever few minutes of mental peace I can get.
About Thursday night… I’ve just been freaking out in general here without really being very specific. Maybe if I outline why it’s making me so anxious, I will be able to manage it a bit better. So… here goes nothing.
Cammy put it best: What is stressing you the most: the menu, the fact that other people might be paying attention to what you eat, the timing, or something else? Or just a general anxiety over breaking your usual?
In short, the answer would probably be “all of the above”!
- The menu does make me anxious, because I have no way of knowing exactly how anything is made or what’s in it, and obviously I don’t know the calorie content of it… I usually have at least a general idea. I’m completely lost at sea here.
- Being able to go over the menu prior to arriving at the restaurant should be a positive thing for me, and I guess in some ways it is. But it also presents me with choices. I don’t do well with those. In some ways, it’s simpler for me to just go to a steakhouse, because there’s very little I would actually eat there! Too many “potentials” make me panic.
- I love my family. I do. But I don’t feel like I belong there… it’s like, some people are quiet / shy with strangers, but I’m like that all the time. Yes, it’s a lot worse with someone I don’t know, but I feel awkward and socially retarded even when I’m with family. It’s so laborious for me to plod through social occasions, especially when I feel like nobody really knows or cares whether or not I’m there.
- When we all go out like this, especially if my mom is footing the bill, some of us tend to go crazy. I’m pretty sure nobody else pays any attention to this — they just get whatever they feel like — but it is agonizing to me to be “singled out,” either because I order more or because I order less than everyone else. It does feel like I’m going to be under scrutiny, and no matter what I do, someone will have some sort of comment. (Have I mentioned that my family can be very loud and opinionated?!) And I don’t know why — probably because everyone is “assigned spouses” — but I always end up right next to my mom. Always.
- But even more than all of that, what makes me most anxious of all is the timing of it. My mom is making a reservation for 8.30. It would be the understatement of the century to say that my family operates on “Jewish time,” which means it will be at least 9.00 before we’ve even assembled. 8.30 is already quite a bit past a time at which I am comfortable eating.
All of that is exacerbated because even if they do have good intentions, my family does not know how to be supportive. Honestly, I feel like I’m wrong to even complain about that, because I don’t exactly know what I mean when I say “supportive.” However, I’m pretty sure it’s not blowing up at me because I’m super-anxious about something normal people would take in stride. Clearly, I am not normal; you would think this would be obvious by now.
I actually mentioned some of this in passing to one of my sisters today (the only one of my siblings with whom I ever really talk about this at all), and I appreciate that she tried to understand me, but she can’t really get it. She told me that instead of bottling it all up, I should say something when I feel anxious. I reminded her of the last time I did that — a couple of years ago, we had a reservation that got screwed up, and we wouldn’t have been able to get a table until something like 10.00. I was hyperventilating. She said, “Yes, well, you were kind of freaking out that time.” My point exactly… I just got yelled at, which only served to make me even more anxious, and I’m still getting harassed about it. My mom can have the memory of an elephant when she wants to.
My sister also told me to “psych myself up” for it, so that I’m excited about it instead of dreading it. I think what I am doing probably qualifies as “psyching myself out.” Knowing what is coming doesn’t lessen the anxiety; I should be better able to handle it, because I am expecting it, but it is much easier in theory than in execution. I turn into a ticking time bomb.
I guess there’s always Klonopin. But then I still won’t be learning to deal with stressful situations. And I’ll probably fall asleep at the table, which actually might not be such a bad idea…
This shouldn’t be such a big freaking deal. I hate that it is, but I can’t seem to stop it.
Unsweetened Almond Dream… I actually liked this. Almond Breeze makes me gag, even if it’s diluted. (Because I am a disordered freak who is known to dilute things like that.) But I didn’t dilute this at all, and it didn’t make the cereal taste nasty! Speaking of cereal: Chocolate Cheerios!
Way better than the Banana Nut Cheerios. I’ve gone through “cereal stages” in my life (that’s another post in itself), and based on my previous experiences, I was expecting this to be overly sweet. Much to my delight, it wasn’t at all; there was a subtle sweetness that went quite well with the cocoa flavor. I’m guessing it was the cocoa that lent a brown tinge to the almond milk; I hope so, because I’m not crazy about cereals that turn milk colors. (Froot Loops, anyone?!)
Romaine, microwaved zucchini and baby carrots, tofu, roasted rutabaga. I was supposedly meeting my friend for lunch today, but honestly… if we’re always going to do everything on the fly like this, maybe we should just call it off altogether. It’s starting to really get on my nerves. (No, we didn’t meet. Supposedly tomorrow. Key word being “supposedly.”)
Since “Impatient” is my middle name…
…I had to try out the Barney Butter! I like nut butters better when they’re kind of melty, so I can’t really just eat it off the spoon. I put it on a rice cake and nuked it for fifteen seconds.
I think I liked it! It’s definitely different than peanut butter, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Despite the most-unwelcome sugar, I thought it didn’t taste as sweet as peanut butter. I didn’t hate it, though, which was exciting.
Check out this birthday card I bought for my dad… I wasn’t intending on buying such an expensive card, but, well, it was too perfect for me to pass up! Remember how I said it bugs me when he and my mom fall asleep on the sofas on Friday night, because I can’t read when people are snoring? Well, my dad falls asleep in the recliner practically every night. We call it his second bed. Either way:
It’s one of those sound cards — when you open it up, it starts to snore. I loved it.
I did not love my Mr. J Moment — seems like every day has at least one of them. I don’t remember why we were even discussing this, but for some reason I said to him that I am not picky. (Well, except for in food situations, but he doesn’t need to know that!) His response? “Oh, so you must have been married a few times already!”
This is just his weird sense of humor at work, but it pisses me off. He thinks that the only reason why I am not married is because I am “too picky.” Yes, around here, to be my age and — gasp!! — still single is just… weird. I told him that I am not one of those people who believes that marriage is the be-all and end-all of one’s existence. Which, naturally, he totally doesn’t get. Whatever.
There’s been a headache knocking behind my right eyebrow all day, and I think I’m finally going to answer it and go to bed. I start classes tomorrow … and I got the full syllabus from one of the professors, and I can already see that this is going to be one fun semester. (Yes, I am being sarcastic. In a major, major way.)
You deserve massive props if you actually made it through this entire epic post… have a happy Hump Day!