micro-utopias
This weekend, K and I have been invited to his friend's island cottage. Sounds fancy, but isn't this how all great horror movies begin?
At first listen, this sounded like a splendid fun getaway, but upon further reflection and the general state of being me, the whole thing has now become a rich source of anxiety.
mind-state palace:
How are 20 people going to go to the bathroom in this tiny cottage in the morning without grossing each other out. The smells; the noises. I just can't.
Are there ticks there? My ultimate worst nightmare because: Lyme disease. (You know I have health anxiety right?)
We are all taking turns cooking a meal and bringing groceries for said meal. K and I are in charge of breakfast on Sunday morning. Here's the thing: I can't cook to save my life. How am I going to cook 40 eggs without breaking any of them?
We're going to be sleeping in a tent on their property and what if I have to pee in the middle of the night? Traversing the yard, tip-toeing around their house to use the washroom, and making it back to the tent...yeah, I'm going to be wide awake all night.
It's supposed to be like 31 degrees this weekend. If you know me, then you know that Summer is my nemesis. I hate the heat, humidity, and sweating to death. Nothing good comes from Summer lol.
Being around so many new people, (even though they're perfectly nice and welcoming) is exhausting. I need a lot of alone time and being "on" for three days is stressing me out. Flipside: maybe this is good exposure therapy for my social anxiety? Sigh.
I could just say: I don't want to go.
But he's so excited to show me this cottage and be around his friends, I feel horrible squishing his hopes. But also, If I'm going to be secretly miserable the whole time, what's the point?
I've voiced all my concerns to him, and he's concocted a solution to every one of my worries, but still, idk, I'd rather just not go.
Why am I like this? Where did fun Veronique go? How did I become so fearful of life? I used to hitchhike across the country and bip-bop around everywhere without a care in the world.
Now, when adventure calls, I'm paralyzed by fear, uncomfortableness, and a desire to retreat to my own space.
How do I coax me...out of me?
found picture: cosmos
micro-utopias:
Holding, and pouring over record inserts while listening to an album: tactile bliss
undersharing(?)
reading Literotica
working on healing my anxious attachment. (Dating someone who is emotionally warm and comfortable with intimacy has been a comforting balm.)
deleting Mastodon and Bluesky off my phone. Only accessing them while on my laptop, while blogging/writing.