I haven’t written along the lines of my lucid (from too much sweet tea) thoughts in a few months. I have been really caught up with the growth of the blog and social platforms (which is the short-version of “all the apps open on my phone at a time”). This has not only placed a bit more change in my pocket, but also opened doors for me to explore other passions like style and creating content.
But, that isn’t to say that in all of this I’m not still constantly wrapping my brain around all of the events around me. I am trying to make ends meet, attempting to balances a young-adult life with the aspirations to compete a horse at the highest levels, and keep a non-horsey career whose own chemistry has evolved from the once “flex-work” schedule.
I also have an enormous canker sore.
That’s the level of stress I am at. There are two levels of Claire-Cumbee stress. There is “text a mean guy for attention” stress. Then, there is canker sore stress. Canker Sore stress is the worst, because it’s a consistent and irritable reminder. If I text my ex-boyfriend, I can always turn my phone off.
I raise my hand to admit that I’m the first to take on a lot on my plate. Even with a full-time job and taking on full-training horses, I try to finish my MBA, write a blog, and take on some additional accounting work. If there’s an avenue to make some extra cash that I can push towards the horse hobby, I’ve researched it. But lately, it’s not even my mishaps of over-loading my plate that seem to be getting in my way. It’s these outside forces that I have no control over! I feel like I’m running with this big shield, and I’m being shot by pellet guns. The kinds that go “phew phew.” I’m swishing my shield back and forth to fight off the little nuances. Though some are not just nuances. They are big things affecting my ability to do the things I’ve worked really hard to do.
Insert the canker sore.
So, and maybe the canker sore is better than texting the boy. Because, it happens enough now, that once it appears, I recognize it’s because I have let myself boil over capacity. I have to change something.
Right now that is releasing this tension and letting my shield down. One of my favorite crushes told me, during my stress-texting, “Do what you can do,” or some version of that. I can’t spend more effort fussing over things I have no control over. For the past few weeks, each commute home, I’m anxiously agonizing over the events unfolding. I have to stop that. I have to pull myself together and per Dad, “toughen up.” I cannot continue to re-spin the wheel over situations that have unfolded. Or, this massive hole in my gum won’t go away.
I have been focusing a lot on the things I can change like researching and diving into new opportunities, focusing on some self-care, and dance moves with Huckle in my living room.
So, tomorrow morning when I wake up. I’m going to plug in my favorite true-crime podcast, take a deep breath, and go buy some Orajel.