Overwhelmed By Choice
I lost a schedule and the rest of my life began to follow.
I sat in the middle of a pile of clothes yesterday, on the verge of tears. A new diet and walking everywhere and more yoga have all merged together nicely to start a quest towards toning up and slimming down. Which is great, except I’m now one of those “I have nothing to wear” people who has an entire walk-in closet full of clothing but nervous breakdowns trying to get dressed, because nothing seems to fit quite right.
So I sleep on my couch so I don’t have to look at it.
This fall I’ve been on a boy-crazy tear that rivals my 9th grade dating spree in which I cleared a good dozen boyfriends in less than ten months before settling on my high school sweetheart for three-and-a-half years. But since September I’ve had crushes on the brother of a friend – the new blogger I met – the boy from Twitter – the boy at the bookstore – the online profile – the son of the bar owner – the boy at the networking event – shall I go on? I see my friends both internally and externally rolling their eyes and painfully exhaling as I go on a new giggling oblivious description of my latest encounter.
And I silently pine and flit from crush to crush, never doing anything to pursue them.
Most distressing is the half-finished work I have laying around. My apartment that is still mostly boxed and completely unlivable and unworkable. I have three articles for various sites and publications that PAY ME to write, half finished in drafts of .odt files. I have an inbox of no less than 25 emails that have been ignored and are getting painfully time sensitive in their replies. I have two PR clients with massive projects coming up in November and a non-profit that is passionate about their cause but have very little understanding of the analytical logistics of a campaign. I have a barely started professional website with a paid-for theme that mocks me with their email updates. And I stare at my Firefox window with 5 open tabs for new writing/social media/bar guide reviewer jobs I’m pitching.
But I write this blog post rather than doing any of it.
As I sat in my apartment last night, working on one of the articles, I realized that I have become one of those half-finished indecisive fragile-minded individuals, questioning and procrastinating nearly everything I do. And it’s like the rare occasions I get dragged into the Super Wal-Mart and almost need to take a Xanax upon entry because I am so overwhelmed.
Much of the stress I see in both my own and others’ lives seems to come from an abundance of options and choices rather than a lack thereof. It’s how the location independents and lifestyle designers garner such followings, because they have somehow mastered pieces of this over-consumption addiction that secretly eats away at our sanity.
One of the workshops I did on Being The Author Of Your Own Life involved a soccer mom of 5 children who was completely drowning in her life. When she created the ideal setting for her story, she chose a little mud-hut in some small remote African village.
In the second half of the workshop (the life-application part) she realized that not only could she not bring her large family to live in the mud-hut, but in reality she wouldn’t want to. What she DID want was the simplicity. The minimalism. The freedom from over-consumption that the mud-hut represented in her mind.
I think I want a mud-hut, too.
Photo Credit: Getty Images – Henrik Sorenson
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