I was besieged for about half an hour last night as I sat in a chair in my apartment, reading the Honesty Thread on Bryn Mawr's ACB board.  The worry was clawing its way up my chest and into my throat, like invaders on their overly crowded, top-heavy ladders.  Except my defenses were down, no one was stopping them, and the ladders were staying upright, an open path into me.

I was completely consumed and frozen for that entire 30 minutes.  I sat huddled in my chair, struggling to breathe and feeling like a little ice cube of an island, wondering what the hell was wrong with me because I was sure that it was not normal.

Then I remembered that I am me and that this is normal.  I am one of the biggest closet neurotics I know.  I blame it on thinking.  Actually, I blame it on a series of things:

1) I think a lot.

2) I am imaginative.

3) I like to be in control at all times.

4) I like to know what is going to happen.

Those four things make living life a little tricky:

1) There is always too much to think about.

2) Similarly, imagination is boundless.

3) Life is often not controllable.  It's what makes life, life.

4) Similarly, life is unpredictable.  It is also what makes life, life.

People are my kryptonite.  With people, each of the four areas combines with each of the other four areas and makes the perfect storm.  I start to feel like I'm going to implode.  Or explode.  I'm not exactly sure which it is.  I get internally frantic, and have to work really hard to chill the fuck out.  I breathe into a metaphorical paper bag.

I've gotten marginally better at controlling myself.  Now I just funnel my OCDs and compulsions into making sure my shampoo and conditioner bottles contain exactly the same amount of liquid at any given time.

I need a crash course in being brave in the area of human emotion.