And so it is.

My co-worker is out for the morning, which means no coffee. That's probably a good idea-- my nerves are already keyed up. With the job switch and a few other things, I'm pretty much at my limit of things that I can handle this week. I know I'll be fine, but I'm still in the "everything is so uncertain" stage, and it's really messed with my ability to function. I haven't had an appetite for the last week-- I've skipped lunch pretty consistently, and haven't really been eating much of a dinner, save Monday night. Yesterday, I had... a cheese danish and two bites of pasta. I'm the exact inverse of a stress-eater. I'm even starting to get a little light-headed, and still, the thought of eating makes me feel vaguely nauseated. And when I get stressed, my body also gets totally off-schedule. Let's just say I discovered this morning that I won't have to worry about female issues next weekend at faire. Fabulous.

I called Yancy last night to get on the same page about the wedding we're going to this weekend, and he made me feel a little bit better. He said that not only would he be giving me a big hug on Saturday, but that he would let go, back up, and then hug me again. He said he'd even wear a shirt with a funny random pattern, so if I got runny mascara or snot all over him, it'd blend right in. I have good friends.

I'm at the point where I am just so tired of working towards being fine. I want to be fine already, goddamnit. But I know that won't happen until so many things that are still uncertain about the next six months get sorted out, and I'm kind of even dreading that because it will mean more change. More hardship. More hard choices. I wish I had it in me to just give up. Perhaps my complete inability to give up is one of my most characteristic flaws. I don't have the Jack Shephard syndrome, Jack Shephard has the me syndrome, and we're both masochistic fools for all the good it does us. I just want to be comfortably numb for awhile.

Anyway, I have bellydance tonight. It's something to focus on.