Thinking too hard

I'm doing it again. I'm thinking too hard. I hate it when I do that, but it can't be helped. It's how I'm built. I discovered I can let go of things. It happened last October, I think it was... I had been holding onto the last year so tightly that I couldn't breathe anymore. I cried more than I laughed. I was a functioning wreck. Then it just hit me one day. I was at the bottom of my barrel, in the pit of my despair, at the end of my rope... let me see how many more cliches i can work into this blog. I was bawling my eyes out to a friend at work. I told her I didn't even feel like going to church anymore. She told me I needed to go to church, so I did. I bawled on the shoulder of a friend at church, who told me I needed to talk to the doctor about increasing my anti-depressant, so I did. That and the wonderful sermon I got that morning about leaving the mountain behind and heading into the promise land is what it took for things to click for me. It was so liberating when I was able to let it all go. Things started falling into place.

I'm stuck in a slump for the moment. I'm sure it will pass, but I'm waiting right now, and it's so hard to wait. I made a mistake at work last week. Something out of the ordinary, but still should have caught. I don't realize how fragile my sanity is until it's tested. I had a minor breakdown. Thankfully the bathroom was empty. I didn't have time for a major breakdown because I still had to pass out checks, and it was past time to do that.

I hate making mistakes, especially stupid ones. I hate not being able to get stuff right the first time. For a long time I thought it was a confidence thing, and maybe it is, but I'm beginning to think there is something seriously wrong with me.

I can't stand up to authority. I never could. So many things I wish I had said to a boss of mine, or told her she was wrong... but I never did.

In writing, I can't seem to take a critique without totally rewriting my entire story to fit just that critique.

I'm puddy for whoever want to tug and squoosh me, whether I want to be or not.

I can't say NO, except to my husband and my children, and even then I don't mean it most of the time.

I'm a people pleaser. Always have been. I do better about thinking of myself than I used to, but not by much. I'm not happy unless everyone around me is happy, or at least happy enough.

Writing doesn't even give me as much pleasure anymore. I keep wondering why I'm even trying...