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Stuck at Eleven

I've been emotionally stressed out this week, preventing me from generating anything blogworthy. (And frankly, from feeling like blogging at all.) I'm tired. My problem is that I take everything seriously and it's difficult for me to "let things go." Even when I'm trying to relax and be frivolous, I do it with deliberate focus. I don't have a throttle — I'm either at 0 or at 11 in everything I do.

My drunken escapade really screwed me up. It's been haunting me. If I don't control myself I'll automatically start thinking about it, alternating between telling myself it was fun, or irresponsible, or that I should do it again as soon as possible, or that I should foreswear it. I wonder why I'm the only one bothered so much by it, and how something so agonizing to me can be so consequence-free for others. I worry that next time I wouldn't be so giddy — that I'd be sad or angry or lusty. And those wells are very, very deep. They've been open for brief periods this week, and they're frighteningly powerful. I'd almost forgotten I could feel that way.

Tonight I listened to Rachmaninov's Second Piano Concerto, which I used to do frequently in college. I haven't needed it often since then. If you've heard it, you may already understand why it helps me so much. If you haven't, it's because it goes through several strong and yearning moods before ending in the purest exclamation of joy I have yet found in music. It integrates in music what I've been unable to in life.

Yesterday I spent many hours cleaning up the house. Not because I'm expecting guests, but because I needed to pass the time doing something both physical and useful. My house actually did need some cleaning, but that was mostly a rationalization. I needed to keep myself busy.

I need a vacation. A vacation from being so uncomfortable in my own skin. Thank goodness tomorrow is Monday and I can go to work all day, doing things that are intellectually instead of emotionally stressful. I have a much higher tolerance for the former. For some reason I've never been effective at handling the latter.

I don't know when I'll get over this, but it will be difficult for me to blog anything but psychology in the meanwhile.

Tiny Island