A case of the crazies.

Over the past few days I've definitely had a case of the crazies. Here is my own personal definition:

The Crazies [the krey-zees) noun - a deranged and impractical guilt which results from a minimum of two days isolation as a result of sickness, a recent fixation on a major life change, a lack of anything to do, and an obsession with perfection.

Tuesday and Wednesday I stayed home from school due to the fact that my body was fighting off some sort of scratchy throat demon causing me to sound like a man and cough like a dying cat (which it still is fighting off a bit, by the way. Fun times). During this time, I forced myself to stay in bed, but of course... I couldn't just SIT there. Instead, I watched way too many episodes of Dexter and The L Word, and also repeatedly looked online at the house I'm potentially buying, looked up potential furniture, looked up potential local restaurants and bars, and basically dreamed up the entire next chapter of my life. It was like crack.

Then of course, after staying in bed for so long and after allowing an obsession with the future to seep into my into my mind, a horrible guilt flooded my soul. I was feeling guilty because 1) I stayed in bed when I was sick, and 2) because I was happy and excited about something and nothing was stressing me out. Ridiculous, right? Not really things I should feel guilty about, yes? But I did.

For some reason, when everything is going well for me, when I let good things cloud my thoughts, or when I let a day pass when I don't specifically do something "productive," I start to feel bad. As I've mentioned before, when I'm not stressed out about something, I feel like I'm not doing enough or not living enough. Then, I get into this even more ridiculous state where I start beating myself up over any little thing I've done slightly wrong or selfishly recently in order to make myself feel bad, as a sort of punishment. It's messed up!!!! Where's my straight-jacket?!

My dad blames himself when I talk to him about this. After all, he is very much the same way. If he sleeps in too much, or he relaxes too much in one day without doing anything to occupy his time, he beats himself up about it, too. I guess I just inherited that trait. On family vacations, my dad is known for his constant berating for us to get off our butts and stop relaxing, to get out and do something and have FUN on vacation. Mandatory fun time, we call it. He only recently has been able to let up on it a little. I think he and I are both realizing how ridiculous it all is.

Where did this habit develop? I want to find the original person who decided this was a good way to live and give him a good punch in the face. Is it the Catholic guilt passed down from generation to generation on my father's side of the family? Who knows. I was taught to feel bad about a lot of the stuff I now do these days, so maybe that's an underlying part of it. Either way, it's a part of me that I need to release.

Before my boyfriend left for work today he gave me a hug and said, "Now, don't stress out because you don't have anything to do today." Then he gave me a pat on the back.


He knows me too well.