Red, White and Walking

Its Friday night, July 3rd. Red, White and Boom night. "The Midwest's Largest fireworks" as it is advertised. We are not downtown. We are not fighting crowds or ingesting items that have been deep-fried. We did drink a beer or two. I decided to write tonight because I have something on my mind. I'm not sure if anyone else will understand this. My friends who have heard this rant before will most likely roll their eyes in a get-over-it gesture. I can't let it go.

My last post mentioned my current frustrations in life, or basically with my job. I decided that this weekend I would give myself a break. I am taking Saturday AND Sunday off. I am going to read books, watch TV, hit up Target, and, I don't know, maybe RELAX or something. At this moment, I am simply racked with guilt. Guilt that I have 2 days off in a row, that I'll be home while my friends are at work and I won't be a part of the "misery loves company".

Why though? Why should I be feeling so guilty about doing something nice for myself? For, God forbid, taking care of myself. Giving myself a mental break in the midst of my busiest season. An extra day to regroup, be alone, and just chill out. This is not a crime. This is in fact, pretty boring. Maybe sad. Yet I sit here with a churning stomach and down 2 fingernails.

This feeling is not new. My stomach used to churn and hurt daily. Anxiety is a common feeling for me. When I was in elementary school I had to stay home sick one day because I was too nervous for the science fair. I would waste summer days worrying about being an adult, what I would be like, would I be successful? Would boys like me? Would I be rich? Would I move somewhere else? Would I always be ugly and chubby?

The anxiety grew with me. High school brought fights with friends (low self esteem is a bitch), more worries about boys, bad decisions with my body and with my heart. College (all 6 years) was jam packed with anxiety and the solution I found for it: bulemia.

Anxiety cripples me. While you may see me still walking or running, still going to work everyday and continuing with every routine, inside I am a mess. Unable to trust myself. Questioning every look, every interaction. Each busy person is annoyed by me. Each short answer means someone is pissed at me. Every second shows me a new failure and why I suck at life.

So that bring us back to this moment on the couch. I feel like I'm failing because I am taking a personal day. I did something good for myself. But others are going to be resentful that I am not at work. They will be saying things like "Why did Kari get the weekend off? What's so special about her?". These negative demons are still in my head, still dancing in my stomach. I've done the therapy, I've watched my Oprah. I can say one thing in my head, but my stomach still turns. Prozac has helped calm the storms, but I am not numb.

I really hope that this weekend brings back my positive side. Believe me, I would much rather write things to make you laugh and brighten your day. I want to be a source of happiness for my friends - someone who makes them feel that their life is better because I am in it. I know my life is better because of each of you who reads this. Thank you for sharing this low moment (and the last one) . May higher moments come.