Caught up, let down

Originally published at this woman's work. You can comment here or there.

Seems like I've been running so much that now I'm all caught up and don't know what to do with myself. Yesterday I did seventy-million loads of laundry. I should be doing something creative but my brain forgot how.

Damn. I'm such an adrenaline junkie.

Once upon a time my old therapist said, "Why do you dig up people you don't like? Why do you call people who drive you crazy? Why do you invite drama into your life?" And I thought about it and realized that a rush -- even a bad rush -- is addictive. It's why I used to spend too much time fretting about email list flamewars back in the day. And it's why I used to rewrite all of my college papers the night before. I'd spend the whole semester researching a topic and then two days before the paper was due, I'd say to hell with it and start a new one from scratch. I've learned to stop doing that but I still love tight deadlines. I write best under pressure.

The tension of "where will Brett be working in a week" is also grating on me. Worse for him though. He's prone to psychosomatic illness when he's stressed (he'll deny it's his brain doing it) and he was up all night coughing. I'm alternately sympathetic and exasperated with him about it. Like this, "Oh poor Brett! Do you want some tea?" to "My god! Lighten up! Let go, let god and quit wheezing!"

PinkPoppies asked (probably hypothetically) why I said I don't deserve my nice husband and it's because he's nicer than I am. He's Dan Connor to my Roseanne. He's sympathetic and supportive and I'm whiny and temperamental. If I had an imaginary illness (and I do get headaches/earaches from grinding my teeth when stressed) he's kind and gets me hot water bottles. He has yet to roll his eyes and tell me to get over it. Also Brett does not gossip and I'm rather prone to it. He does more cleaning than I even pretend to do. He's apt to thank me for doing things he could take for granted and I'm apt to complain because he folded the socks incorrectly. He's Mr. Smith Goes to Washington and I'm All About Eve (but not as classy, witty or alcoholic).