How I found hope in a can of Beefaroni (also: pictures of various riots)

Hi. I’m $^%#&!# stressed out.  All I wanted to do this morning was register for my spring classes and move on with my life.  You know, this life that consists of me not working and studying for a degree in zzzz… (obviously, I don’t care anymore), paying my bills with what little dwindling savings I have left, worrying about how I’m going to give my child a good Christmas, trying to decide (again!) if dropping my current degree program would benefit my state of mind because I really don’t give a frying fluck about management information systems, and keeping up with all the what-ifs in my head regarding my heart being in Oklahoma and my feet being planted here in Florida and how in the hell am I supposed to function with all this worrying going on and omg it’s almost lunchtime?

Great, more decisions.  Beefaroni or a PB&J sandwich? OH GOD, I JUST CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!

I’m genetically programmed this way (thanks, Mom!).  I know there are others out there who are programmed this way, too.  Trust me, I’m not special in this regard, but those other people just might be more apt at hiding the chaos that goes on inside their heads.  It’s quite terrifying, probably even similar to what goes on in the mind of a bipolar. 

Here’s a picture of what our brains look like when The Overwhelming begins to take over:

It’s a race between the logical/illogical in the thinking person’s brain. 

Logical forces: One thing at a time, by golly! You can only solve one thing at a time! Calm down and breathe…no, really, YOU NEED TO BREATHE BECAUSE YOU’RE STARTING TO HYPERVENTILATE AND IT’S GETTING DARK IN HERE…C’MON DIAPHRAGM, LUNGS, WORK TOGETHER AND HELP HER BREATHE!

Illogical forces:  Forget it, there’s too much to think about now. You let your worries pile up and it became too massive to deal with. Just light your worries on fire and watch the whole pile explode…*KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAABLOOOOEY!!*

See, it’s a race.  I’m about 5 yards from the finish line right now and I’m not sure which one of those forces  is gonna win.  At the moment, it feels like the illogical kablooey. 

Here’s a picture of what our brains look like when Kablooey has happened:

I try, by all means necessary (except by drinking…hmm, new tactic?) to avoid Kablooey.  This morning, Matt was my coach in trying to convince my brain to plow ahead and do what needed to be done (no, it’s still not done because I’m writing THIS) and I cried and he rallied around me, supported me, and convinced me that everything would be okay. 

Here is a picture of what our brains look like after all is said and done, Kablooey or no Kablooey.  The fires are being extinguished and everyone’s worn out and it’s time to rest our tired brains because…well, JUST LOOK AT IT! It’s exhausted:

It’s 12:21 and I need a nap already.  My brain is nearing Kablooey but I’ve decided on Beefaroni for lunch. This gives me hope.

One less thing to worry about. Hooray.


About Dena

I'm a suburban Clevelander by way of Oklahoma City, by way of North Florida, by way of Southern Maryland, by way of Upper Michigan, by way of Northern Italy, by way of Lower Michigan, by way of Texas. Because of living in so many places, I have something in common with almost everyone I meet. I love reading, writing, and American history (especially reading or writing about American history). I'm interested in culture of place, historical trauma, and writing about the kinds of histories most people don't know about.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to How I found hope in a can of Beefaroni (also: pictures of various riots)

  1. ~Matt says:

    Beefaroni was a good choice. One step closer to that nap…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s