“No storage space? Too many sweaters? No idea where to put all your stuff?
That’s okay! Throw yourself a big ol’ tantrum!”
Yes, I really did. I threw a giant, lie on the floor and cry like a child tantrum. Over sweaters. And towels. And storage shelves.
It was ridiculous, and I even knew that at the time, but it felt so good to just flip shit for 30 minutes. It was like a big sigh.
Now, obviously, a tantrum over storage is a symptom, not the sickness. The sickness is likely a tidge of loneliness all trapped up in my house, a bit of fear about unemployment, and some seriousness nervousness about this upcoming job interview. One of the less-lovely things about unemployment, for me, is the utter lack of structure. There is no schedule, there are only a limited number of to-dos, there is a lot of time spent doing the same darn things. Harumph.
Luckily, I survived my meltdown and managed to not try and force anyone into the Crazy Car with me. I bought some under-the-bed storage. Now there are sweaters in them. Easy fix.
While I was perusing blogs last night, I read this gem from Nicole is Better, in a post about running her first half-marathon:
Time moves just as quickly whether you’re doing what you want to do or not. The days, weeks, months, and maybe even years that are separating you from your goal are going to come and go no matter what, so who cares if you’re going to be 25 or 35 or 45 or whatever by the time you graduate from school or switch careers or complete yoga teacher training? You’re going to hit that age anyway, regardless of whether you pursue your dreams, so you might as well just fucking go for it.
Well, that is precisely what I needed to hear. This morning is better. Much better.