Thank you, Gloria Gaynor

Today was one of those days when I was completely overwhelmed and just when I thought I would break down and cry, it stormed.

When I was a senior in college, I was one of those crazy undergrads taking 18 credit hours, volunteering regularly, working a part-time job, and, you know, being a senior in college. This meant that my planner was my life. I loved my planner. I planned my days to the nearest MINUTE. Oh, public policy starts at 10:15, does it? I will begin my walk over there at 10:08. So it was no surprise when my therapist told me to take my watch off my wrist and never put it back on. I was that scheduled and that crazy.

I've never put on a watch since. In this day and age of cell phones and computers and signs at the train station, who needs a watch anyway?

But today was like that day when my therapist listened to my breathless telling of my day's agenda and told me to take it off. I was overscheduled and underfed. I was overstimulated and underexercised. There was a panic attack.

I'm leaving to go out of town on Wednesday. In the meantime, I have about a million little details to attend to. This is why I am doing laundry at 12:30 in the morning. This is why I responded to a student email at 2 in the morning yesterday. This is why I am currently freaking out.

I'm unprepared. I am overscheduled. There's a knot in my stomach, unrelated to the sad fact that they voted the funny guy off Project Runway. I want to crawl under a blanket and watch the episode of The Gilmore Girls where Jess comes back and Rory runs away from him, Rory with that ridiculous run and then Jess tells Rory he loves her. I want to watch it over and over and over again. I want to cry, but I can't. I want to stop sneezing, but I can't. I want to pretend it's Wednesday afternoon and I'm driving out of the city, but I can't. I want to pretend I'm caught up on email, but I can't. I want to pretend the laundry is done, the rent is paid, the responsibilities are over, but I can't. I want to crawl away, be alone, be quiet and cool, but I can't.

This is not stress. It's depression. It's the soul-sucking pain of wanting everything to be fine just like it was yesterday. Nothing is different. I was this overscheduled yesterday. But this is what happens. It overtakes you, in the space of a second.

I'll be fine. Gloria Gaynor promises. But in the meantime, I'll be praying for Wednesday afternoon to get here as soon as possible.