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Worn

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I should have been pleased with my weekend.

Households chores completed: 1. Recycling center trip 2. Removal of 12 tons bags of leaves from around house. And most of our trees haven’t lost their leaves but there were 100 years of leaves built up AROUND the house. We paid kids to do it, BUT IT STILL COUNTS! Related: some weed removal.

Good deed FOR THE YEAR completed: overnight with eight 4th grade girls (I volunteer as a troop leader for a Girl Scout troop).

But I instead ended my weekend just an emotional outbursts short of a mental breakdown.

I know people who are anxious and dramatic and can’t handle stressful situations well – if at all. I can deal with shit (for the most part) but bury frustrations and things I can’t change. Why complain if you can’t change it or can’t do anything about it? Why display insecurities and stress when you can just WORK HARDER and BE BETTER? Eventually, that process just scrapes away at my sanity until the inner, emotion-filled,  sensitive nerve center is exposed and all I can do is speak in half-coherent sentences that (most-likely) freak out the boyfriend. And cry until, you know, the body just stops producing tears because, really,  THAT’S ENOUGH ALREADY.

And even though I’m already worn out, I feel raw. I scrubbed away everything and have to start over. Have to figure out what needs to go. I can’t do everything. I’ve got to figure out what’s not working.

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