I woke up this morning at 10, thinking I was going snowboarding. Of course no one was around to ask. My brother was sleeping literally like something dead. My mom was working. My dad was outside and I'm in my pjs. There's a foot of snow. I don't know. I finally get to him and he says No, he REALLY does not want to go. Plus we weren't up this morning. I'm thinking how it was pouring last night, and he never said we had to be up at 7:30? Never. I thought 10 was pretty early. My bad. And Jon went to bed at 4.
My mom said she would take us when she got home at 2. Steve ended up here and brought his stuff. But it just wasn't good conditions in general. It was still icy out and snowing and getting slushy and warm. And sunnier by the hour. And it's minority day. Which just means they're be a lot of people there. Also because it's Martin Luther King day. Lots of people who think today is the day to learn to ski, and aren't they great? Why don't they just mosey through the terrain park to show everyone their skills! Oh, and why don't they just go over the jumps going .5 MPH and flail their skis at oncoming people in panic? That sounds pretty fun for the rest of us, right? Plus my stomach was aching and my head was kinda getting bad and I was generally cold and grumpy. I ended up yelling and then falling asleep in my snuggie for hours. There are pictures.
I ate spaghetti and made Steve cookies and we went out on the snowmobiles. And I never knew the meaning of the phrase "life changing experience" till I finally sat back down on that snowmobile and heard myself shrieking. I was actually crying I was so terrified. Even when I was driving. Every turn we made, I couldn't help but yell. I didn't enjoy it very much. I mean I love it, but my heart was pumping so hard and it hurt and my teeth couldn't have clenched any tighter. Every time the wheels slid my heart skipped a beat and when I closed my eyes it got worse. It prolly awsn't as bad as I thought it was. Every time I or he turned the handles- all I could see was us skidding to the side, in a snowbank, in the tears, upside down in that huge ditch, in the road upside down, upside down in the trees after falling off a cliff because he didn't take me seriously when I said we could fall. There's so much that could go wrong. I wish I could love the sport like I did as a child. I just closed my eyes and I might of well have been flying. I wasn't scared, I could put my trust in anyone taking me. I did fall off, but it wasn't scary. It was what it us. Now that I know the feeling of tires sliding, the sound of wheels turning on air, of losing control, well, it's different. I'm not cautious, I'm just ridiculously terrified.
I took the bandaid off my fingernail. I'ma let it toughen itself up. I can't baby it its whole life, can I! No but seriously I need to let it toughen up. Plus bandaids get so gross so fast.
I finished my Lemon cake and now I'm sad, ha.
Are my problems so shallow? Am I so silly as I sound to myself? I mean maybe I'm not pregnant, maybe I'm not dying, or starving to death. Maybe my head just hurts, and maybe I'm just tired. But tomarrow maybe I will be pregnant, or dying, or starving to death. Life is unpredictable and am I any less to worry about just because I can see that these things could happen? So I should have-obviously- planned ahead and should know?
Anxiety doesn't seem like a big deal because other people pretty much can't see it. But can't it be a problem to me, because the physical symptoms are putting me in a constant state of distemperment? I've had chest pain for three years now, and doctors have been no help. I've had headaches since I reached middle school. My friend used to jokingly say I had an addiction to Motrin. I have an addiction to sleeping pills for insomnia I've had my whole life. I have night terrors, for godsake, and it doesn't seem to matter. Because I'm not bleeding on the floor. I'm not crying out to people. I'm not talking about it. But I'm trying.