I was never good with anticipation. Good things. Bad things. Exams. Birthdays. Funerals–they all give me the same feeling–indigestion. And nausea.
It all kind of comes back to the idea that if there is a huge planned event–and during this event I’m supposed to be well and possibly eating food and talking to people–I have a huge fear that I’ll be having a flare and at my worst and most unintelligible.
And in a self-fulfilling prophecy I usually twist my stomach into a knot so tight I do end up being in a flare, at my worst and almost completely unintelligible.
So naturally, as I prepare for my engagement party this Saturday I’m having what feels like an endless stream of panic attacks. Why? It’s not because of the dress-I found an amazing one. It’s not because of the preparation–because our parents are handling that. It’s not because I’ll be seeing 97 (RSVP’d) of my closest friends and family members.
There’s no reason to stress. But try telling that to my developing ulcer.
Yes, I know it’s silly–and maybe to those who aren’t terrified of the potential of not feeling 100% at important events–it might even seem ungrateful. But I swear this has nothing to do with how I feel about my engagement or R.J or the total glamour of this party (because I am so PSYCHED you don’t even know.) It really is just the waiting for it to happen.
And I’m just trying to be okay with the fact that this is me in anticipation of even the very best things in my life. This is me losing seven unintentional pounds before the weekend.
My sister also flew into town last night. And I’ll be meeting the other half of R.J’s family–including his Dad and brothers for the first time tomorrow. So naturally I’m not a trainwreck. Not at all.
To take my mind off of my terrifyingly positive life events, R.J took me to see Catching Fire this weekend. Which was awesome. I love these kind of semi-post apocalyptic societies–just because I know how crazy bad I would fit into one. I’ve thought about it a lot and I think if the government ever fell and some crazed totalitarian group began running the country and starving people–I might offer myself up as a propaganda writer. I’d create the next “Keep Calm and Carry On.” Just wait for WW3 my slogans will be everywhere.
R.J is helping Bear write his bear post for the week. This would be the second Bear Post in the Bear Diaries, following our star fur child, Happy Bear. Then come Sunday I should be able to give you a full update on how I survived my engagement party by drowning my anxiety in champagne and actually enjoying the excitement around me. I can also finally stomp out my engagement pictures (which my mother bizarrely refused to let me post on Facebook until after the party.)
I’ll be over here freaking out.
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