reception in the closet

So apparently even after that beautiful weekend of rest, my body feels it necessary to attempt to catapult my lungs out of my body through my throat.  I woke up in the night choking on my bronchial tubes, which besides being unpleasant, was significantly unrestful for both my roommate and myself.  Sorry Jess.  I really hope this antibiotic makes some of this go away.

I have decided a few things.  I love Second Glide.  I missed Second Glide. But I am ready.  I am ready for tomorrow, even if it scares me speechless (which is a pretty strong thought for someone as talkative as I) and I don’t think I’m smart enough, and I don’t think I’m good enough, and I really don’t believe some of the amazing possibilities in my life right now.  I’m terrified that I won’t get into grad school.  I’m terrified that I won’t get scholarship, or fellowships.   I’m terrified that I’ll spend the rest of my life alone.  I’m terrified of moving home and yet not moving home.  I’m just plain terrified.

And I have come to the conclusion that this is normal.  If you’re not admitting that you’re terrified, it’s because you’re in denial, and denial is NOT as one of my friends once posited “the first step to recovery.”  Denial is simply refusal to look fear in the face.  Get over it.  Having it lurk behind you isn’t really going to improve your chances at happiness.  Get up, look it in the eye.  It’s probably not as strong or frightful as what you’ve imagined.  Know your enemy, it’s the only way to overcome.

Now that I have put forth this rather stunning and motivational post, please note that I will be the first to forget all of this and wish to fly weeping to my closet to hide.  Because, after all, I get better reception in there, right Jess?

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