All Things Profane and Sacred

I've been having mini freak outs again, nothing I can't keep under control, but somedays I start thinking about all the debt, gigantic piles of it crushing me lak zee bug, and have to put my head between my knees and breath shallowly. J said to me the other day, as we juggled some bills, "Wow. We would've been really fucked if you hadn't have gotten this job, wouldn't we?"

Indeed. And now we're looking at having to borrow money to move down to the coast, another couple of thousand. And I've been thinking uneasily about my car-it has a rusted axle, and I'm afraid that driving in the salty ocean breeze is going to finish it off, and one day I'll be driving down 101, hear a clunk and half my car will be driving off without me.

I know, I need to takes these challenges one at a time. I think this stressful period has altered my brain chemistry in a bad bad way-I can't seem to think about anything without a rising wave of panic crashing over me.

It's more than that-I really need to start working, or, I should say, working at something full time, balls to the wall. I need to be busy; this constant living in my head gives me too much friggen time for introspection and I'm not seeing good things.