Un-frazzling

I wish I could turn off the frazzle button: not disconnect from the things that make me frazzled but deactivate my own tendency to go into a tizzy, even if the tizzy usually takes place only within my own head. I so easily get just slightly overwhelmed. And what I mean by “just slightly” is that it’s with an awareness of what kinds of issues I manage to avoid that could be truly overwhelming. I’m not trying to make life-or-death decisions for a terminally ill family member. Or lobbying for special educational services for a child. Or unable to pay my rent. So I know that I don’t count as truly frazzled.

Instead, it’s the mundane issues. The sink full of dishes; the newspapers piling up because no one but me ever takes them out to the recycling bin; the dog’s never-ending quest for more attention and more exercise; the hope of receiving one more article assignment before the week ends, spend one more billable hour on that municipal planning communications task, and figure out the schedule for school library volunteers for the next month. Easy things. Routine things.

But it’s not the fact that they’re essentially trivial that makes me feel guilty on top of frazzled; it’s that all these little pieces comprise exactly the life I want. If you had asked me when I was in my late 20’s what I wanted my life to look like 15 years hence, every single detail of today probably would have been included in my description. Living in the country. Working from home as a writer. Having two happy, healthy, well-adjusted, school-aged children and an equally healthy, if not always quite as happy or well-adjusted, husband. (And who knew he’d be 40 pounds lighter now than back when I might have dreamed up this scenario!) My dreams would doubtlessly include a big comfortable house where the kids would bring friends home from school, and those same dreams would feature celebrations, and volunteer work, and friends of my own.

And that was my day today but it’s all frazzling me, which is something I wish I could change. Drinking might help, of course; but I’ve just never really liked alcohol very much. I don’t mean I’m cranky or miserable, just that I wish I could enjoy the details more. I pitched an article that could be a lot of fun to work on, I billed for some editing hours, I went for a run that felt great but too short because I was anxious about getting back so that I could finish more work before the kids got home from school. I was out in the barnyard at 7:30 this morning letting the sheep out to graze. It’s all the way I dreamed it would be. Now it’s just a matter of finding the de-frazzle button: learning to say “Forget the dirty dishes, forget the 12 relatives coming over for a cookout tomorrow, forget the article that didn’t get written today. Instead, celebrate having the life you want.”

And, of course, there’s no more appropriate day than 9/11 to celebrate the joys of everyday life. Back in the fall of 2001, what I missed most was normal life. And by that I meant not feeling afraid. Not following endless news feeds. Not thinking constantly in terms of trauma. Just regular life. Dishes and dogs and running and deskwork. Exactly what I have now.

***
Running Streak Day 762. Ran 2.5 miles, through the Center and up to the soccer fields and home, just after noon. Cool, invigorating air.