Someone Has Set Veruca Salt Free in My Brain

I am having a hard time focusing today.

I am worried that the cilantro I bought at the grocery store yesterday will be all wilty and gross by the time I get home to make enchiladas verdes tonight. (It probably won't be, and even if it is, it gets pureed, so it's not a big deal.)

I am worried about telling my parents I'd rather spend Christmas with Adelka and Justin than them. (Alice says this is perfectly normal, and given the dismal fuck-upedness of Yule Times Past, she says it's good to create new, positive associations or something like that.)

I am worried I will never find love. (That's just plain silly. I should clarify that I'm worried I will never find the calming, comfortable silences, cookies in bed, bubble baths together kind of love that makes you feel full. I'm sure I could easily get the wacked out, jealous phone calls at 3 a.m., passed out on my door step, false stories of terminal illness kind of love. I don't want that kind. By the way—still no messages in the dating inbox. Gah.)

I am worried that the personal trainer gym guy I'm supposed to consult with tomorrow will be abnormally short and will fall madly in love with me, and thus I'll be stuck with a petite, beefy stalker. (This one is kind of founded because his name is Andy, and every Andy I've ever known has been about 5' 2". He's called me three times since Thursday to confirm our appointment and sent me two e-mails to make sure I have the directions. Maybe he just intuitively knows I need to lose 10 pounds.)

I am worried that I will always feel this way: stressed out, tired and willing to settle.

To be fair, my pretties, and to quiet your mind that I'm not curled up in a urine-soaked corner somewhere clutching an empty bottle of Wild Irish Rose, this is what happens when I don't take enough time out of my life to relax—I get anxious and immobile and kind of dark. This is not the real me: this is the 123Valerie who does what she is supposed to, rather than what she knows is best for her.

Does that ever happen to you? You get so busy living your life for other people that you forget to take a minute for yourself? That stinks, no?

I will be fine, as soon as I start listening to that little voice in my head that says, "Stop. Just stop. You can't do everything, and you shouldn't try."

Right now, I've got a motherfucker screaming at me, "Now. Now! NOW!" about every gosh durn thing in my life: work, housework, bills, relationships, exercise, family, friends and finishing at least one of the 17 stories I have going right now.

Yeah, I'm freaking out a little bit. Just a tiny emotional crisis. So, what's new with you?

In the Comments section, tell me what's new with you and/or what's worrying you right now. The winner gets, well, the opportunity to vent.