If there were any justice in the world I would not get PMS the same week the mortgage is due. One part hormonal imbalance plus two parts global and personal economic crisis create a mighty pungent stew of panic. I’ve spent the morning intermittently hyperventilating and freezing in fear, unable to prod myself on to the next text. I keep reminding myself to take deep breaths. Matters have not been helped by the fact that there were no good jobs to apply for today. It doesn’t take much to begin the downward spiral that ends up with Supergenius HQ in foreclosure and me sleeping on the daybed in my parents’ den.
Back in college when I would get worked up over some looming Spectator deadline my friend LaFrenz would corner me in the office and tell me not to worry, that it will be okay, and the paper would come out because it has to. It seemed to make sense, because he was often right. The paper always came out.
Things will work out because they have to, right?
Faith has never been my strong suit. I always envy those with the comfort of religion, with the ability to make that leap and just believe. As a devout skeptic it’s been hard trusting there’s a happy ending at the end of this. I want so badly to be one of those people that just offers it up to the universe and trusts that all will be right. Instead, I am one of those people who believe that worry is a sort of penance. If I do enough worrying then the universe will pay me back for my effort by making that which I have worried about not come true.
Why is living in the moment so goddamn hard?