Work Hard, Drive Hard, Eat Pasta

After writing last night, I decided that work, indeed, was the way to go.  I was going to work hard and get things done and that would make me feel better.  I gathered my pen, the stamps, my laptop, the Christmas cards and I got to work.  It only took me about 30 minutes to do the Christmas cards.  I crossed them off my to do list, cleaned up, and felt exhausted.  Then I took a deep breath and looked at what was next on my list.  Cleaning out my notebook.  It took five minutes.  Then I took out my book, made my tea, and read.

I was worried about my sleep last night because some of the same circumstances from The Night of Three Hours repeated themselves but I did okay.  When I woke up 40 minutes before my alarm, I laid there for a while then did a morning meditation and got up.  I got ready.  I worked out.  I picked up the house.  I went to my doctor’s appointment, an hour south west.  I’ll admit that I slipped a little, that I had a hard time not losing it in the office because I am just so frustrated and fed up with them that I can’t stand it, but then I left.  I drove fast and went back home.  At home I started in on cleaning the coffee pot, though I still have to run water through it tonight, and I cleaned the entryway, the living room, and the dining room.  Then I jetted off again to meet my mom for lunch and eat an irresponsible amount of pasta.  Then to work.

I’ve told myself that if I work hard and get everything on my to do list done, I can read.  When I get home, all I need to do is run that pot of water through the coffee maker.  I can make my tea and read or watch the last episode of season two of Eureka or just go to bed.  I’ve worked hard.  I’ve done a lot.

Honestly, I like myself.  I do.  I was thinking about it earlier.  I think that I’m pretty in a very Rachael way and I know that I am smart and that I work hard and I know how to have a good time.  Just because things are hard right now doesn’t mean that they will be forever.

But I’ve also been thinking about my doctor’s office and about how every time I have talked to them in the past three weeks I’ve been left upset, shaking, crying, anxious, stressed, sometimes on the edge of a panic attack.  I have decided not to take calls from them anymore.  They can leave me a voicemail and I’ll deal with it then.  When I see the actual doctor in two weeks, I’ll have a list of questions ready and from there I’ll be making an educated decision about whether or not to continue on with them.  It’s stressful to think of changing doctors when I will be six months along but I also don’t want to continue seeing someone whose policies don’t align with my preferences.  I want to do things as naturally as possible.  That MATTERS to me and Hubby.

So, last night I talked about how everything felt like a big tangled mess in front of me.  I know how to handle tangled messes as well as I know how to get to sleep when I can’t.  All I need to do is take a deep breath and start getting things done.  Work Hard.  It’s always what makes me feel best.


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