When everything goes to hell, that is usually the first thing my inner monologue can come up with. Helpful, right? (Not, not really.)
But when everything starts tanking, I usually retreat to one of two responses: Curse a lot, feel overwhelmed, whine, cry, complain, et cetera or step into a pencil skirt and a sassy top, put on my biggest statement necklace, curl my hair, pop on some red lipstick and a pair of fierce high heels, put on my best “Mean Girls” stare and, hand on hip, cut that beyotch down to size.
When I start feeling overwhelmed, it helps me to at least look put together. When my life seems to be spinning out of control, when work deadlines pile on top of housework and the dog decides to eat something that doesn’t agree with him and so has it shooting out both ends, when I’m flaring, it seems the only thing I can control is my appearance, the face I present to the world. And so that face seems so much more important than it does when I’m feeling well (or well-ish).
Subsequently, if I look like I’ve got it all together, I start feeling like I do, too. And then that mountain I feel like I’ve got to conquer starts looking more like a pile of beans.
But the thing I’ve found helps me best is to be really organized. This is not, unfortunately, my nature, but I’ve learned I function best when I write everything down (especially when the brain fog starts rolling in) and when everything has a place. It took me a long time to organize my office (cubicle) the way I need it to be; now that it is, though, it helps when I feel like everything is crashing down around me.
Of course, sometimes I still need a good cry or a good yell or a good cuddle or to just sit in my pajamas the whole day eating frozen yogurt and crossing absolutely nothing off my to-do list. The thing is, most of the time, I just don’t have the energy to start freaking out over whatever this week’s big crisis is. Most of the time, I put my head down and muddle through. But every now and then, with all those plates up in the air, one of them will fall. If you’re lucky, someone else will be there to catch it before it hits the ground. If not, you’ve just got to dust yourself off and try again. (And maybe invest is some Corelle dishware, next time.)
(PS- I took that photo when I was at university, after a hurricane blew through. I had never had school canceled because of rain before. Snow, yes. Rain, no. I can’t say that anymore.)