Further (Ineffective) Attempts at Control

I had a bad day yesterday. Not that anything catastrophic occurred, but I was riddled with anxiety right up until about 8 o'clock, when I self-medicated and had a beer just so I could calm the fuck down. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, considering it was the day before the semester began . . . but I was surprised. After nine years of doing this, you'd think I'd be more calm and have my shit together, right? Um . . . nope!

I'm trying not to become too worried about any one thing but it's proving difficult. I attempted to make this transition from summer to fall semester easier by going into the office three days a week for the last two weeks in August, but that time really didn't produce the results I was anticipating. I thought I'd be much more together, under control, prepared. I thought my classes would be prepped, committee work complete, my house tidy and in order, doctor's appointments out of the way . . .

But no. My online class is only set up for about the first two weeks -- just enough to buy me some time, I hope. I still have to make copies of the syllabus for the class I'm teaching today. I have all of tomorrow to prep for -- not one course outline complete, and I have two classes. Things are not going well.

I'm trying to keep in mind that *I* am the one in control of my life, and that (most) of everything that occurs in or around or to me is a direct result of some decision, ill or wise, that I made at some point . . . but that's not particularly comforting. It's a good reminder that I shouldn't moon around playing the victim, but it doesn't really help allay any of my anxiety -- which can, at times, be kind of paralyzing. It seizes my brain and then I can't think, and so I don't act, and then I don't tend to the chaos around me, and the chaos makes me anxious, and it's all a stupid circle, repeating endlessly.

There are some things that I've tried to do, or implement, to reign in some of the chaos. Things like, actually setting the children's alarm clock for the correct time, and then turning on the alarm, so that they wake up with enough time to eat breakfast, get dressed, and prepare for school (which, for them, begins tomorrow). I'm attempting to start new habits, completely mundane and yet necessary tasks like a load of laundry every single day, from washing to folding, so my basement doesn't end up looking like a drycleaners. (Actually, a drycleaners is more organized and less cluttered than my basement when laundry begins to pile up.)

These banalities  . . . they aren't terribly interesting, but they're what I'm consumed with at the moment. That's probably part of my anxiety, too. I'd really much rather be thinking about other things.