Monday, September 7, 2015

Missing Deadlines

There's a slight chance I'm having a nervous breakdown.

Don't worry. It's only slight.

The problem with deadlines is what happens when you don't meet them. I'm not talking work deadlines or freelance deadlines. I never miss one of those, but I also don't ever take on a project without being certain I can meet the requested deadline.

Not so much with the rest of my life.

I like round numbers and thirteen. I like numbers that end in zero, that are rife with meaning, that are far enough way for me to happily make a goal while being assured it's a safe distance forward in time.

I like new years - both of the January 1 variety and of the birthday variety. I like resolutions and goals. I like the idea of a clean slate, of letting go of the past, of pushing towards the future.

All this being said, I screwed up.

Four years ago when Chad and I separated, I couldn't handle what my life had become. I couldn't cope with the emotional landmines, the gut wrenching pain. It was far, far better for me to think forward. I created, in my fertile imagination, an entire scenario of my life at forty. Forty, after all, was so far away. I'd be fine by forty, I assured myself.

When I couldn't sleep because of the memories assailing me, I would dream of forty. I created a picture not unlike my childhood fantasies of being eighteen wherein I drove a Jeep and work cut off short shorts on long legs.

My childhood fantasies were obviously unduly influenced by Daisy Duke.

And now, I'm a week away from that date and coming to the overwhelming realization that I've failed at so many of my goals.

Yes. I am very aware that life does not end at forty, that I can still work towards my goals, that age is just a number. I do understand all of that. However...

I'm a goal-oriented Virgo.

Goal-oriented Virgos have slight chances of having a nervous breakdown when they don't meet deadlines.

How bad could it be, you ask?

Well...

I didn't learn to love running. In fact, while I can run a mile or two, I don't actually run a mile or two on any sort of regular basis.

I haven't lost my baby weight and have faced the stark realization that my baby is in first grade and I didn't even come close to losing it.

My novel isn't done. Yes, it's in beta and second draft, but it's not done. I will not be announcing publication any day soon.

I'm still living in our transitional cottage. Granted, it's an adorable and affordable cottage, but I did expect that I would have moved into something with two bathrooms by now.

I still get scared of strange noises when I'm home alone at night.

I'm not as good a friend as I thought I'd be.

I didn't learn to knit.

And now, I have less than a week and the realization that I'm not going to meet my deadlines. Not even close. A part of me wants to hole up with wine, books, and Thai food. Another part of me wants to discover the diet that will instantly make me thirty pounds light while cloning me so I can work day and night on my book while still working and single parenting.

So I'm going to throw a party instead.

1 comment:

au.essay-writing-place.com said...

Hey, don't get nervous. When I feel like that, I always buy some chocolate (you may choose what you like) and sit in front of the TV set and watch a movie. I know that it may be lazy.. Sometimes, I just lie down on the sofa and begin writing poems.. Writing white poems.. writing everything I think about.