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Today I’m neurotic – until I google again.


It’s official.  I’m neurotic.  (as I notice the hair in my eye in the above picture)

I Googled it, so it must be true.  Plus, it described me to a T on the following:

  • The tendency to restrict oneself, to be satisfied with very little or to remain inconspicuous: Grows out of normal need to move cautiously, delay gratification
  • An insistence of self-sufficiency and independence which does not allow one to ask for help or commit to relationship: Grows out of a normal need for autonomy and self-sufficiency.

Anxiety, self-sufficiency, OCD and having to over analyze every little thing, yup, that’s me. 


Good news is – it’s not a mental illness and it’s treatable.  basically, ‘get over it’.  Okay, so maybe they suggested therapy to help with that.  But, there is hope. 

Seriously everything I do, from driving beyond 5 miles in the car to being faced with something unexpected, results in a physical reaction akin to readying myself to open a can of Pillsbury dough.


I have had a reprieve from most of my anxiety, by not interacting with people outside of work.  I have to push myself to do anything that involves making eye contact with others.  Funny thing is though, when I am out there, I’m that kid who just waltzes up to another kid they don’t know and introduces themselves.  It’s mental.  Okay, I’m mental. 

So before I turn into this:


Or this:


It’s time to assess myself.

I don’t think it’s a secret that my kryptonite is ‘relationships’ (of the romantic variety.)  *shudder*

I’m talking, full on – fight or flight response to the THOUGHT of it.  I want you in my house, but gone when I want to be alone.  I want you in my life, but don’t tell me how I should be living it.  I want you to find me attractive, but don’t look at me or make me feel like a piece of meat.

It’s terrible. 


Because there is a really good chance that my neurosis in this area will end up truly leading me to my cat lady future.


This is how I see those relationship petals … nothing is black and white. Except how I want things.  Those are very black and white, and don’t you bring a grey crayon anywhere near me. 

I’ve found a balance that doesn’t give me panic attacks.  It’s called being alone.


But recently, I’ve had my balance tilted.  Thankfully, these days, when off-center, I stop to look at what is causing it.  I’m a lot more open to the possibility that I (gasp) could be wrong.  

I emailed my best friend and she assured me, she was not about to co-sign my bullshit.  She heard me out – as she always does and about 100 emails later, I could have published my analyses as a thesis. 

I think I convinced myself to some degree that I was doing the humanitarian thing by not getting involved with anyone.  I KNOW I’m a mess.  Who puts themselves out there knowing they’re a train wreck? I have my good qualities too – but don’t think it’s fair to subject someone to my hang ups and neuroses.  I’ve hurt too many people already.


So if I’m going to even consider changing my cat lady plans – I have to start to work on myself.  That’s the bottom line.  Because even if Prince Charming showed up, with a box of Good and Plenty’s (my favorite) in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other – I’d find something wrong with him.


People keep saying, “when you meet the right guy, it will be different.”  But, I really think in this case: It’s not you, it’s me is the truth of the matter.

And I’m all for truth.

And hope.

And love.

Just better be EXACTLY the way the ever-changing image of it is in my head, or else.