11/4/08

A million little pieces

For the first time in quite awhile, I feel...

STRESSED.

Suuure, I've felt sad, happy, anxious, paranoid, homesick, lonely,
excited... bloated... (haha) the list goes on.

But it's been probably a year or more since I've just felt out-and-out
stressed.

I associate Jackie-the-stress-fetus with university. The days when I
didn't think I was capable of making that phone call that was essential
to my week's journalism assignment. When the prospect of 15-page papers
made me shake... and then I'd get so cracked out on tea that the shaking
was no longer from the nerves, but from the caffeine high. When I'd
watch hour after hour of Scrubs to numb my brain, to make me forget how
MUCH work I had to do.

But at least then I had my room mates who were dealing with exactly the
same thing. And, you know, misery loves company.

Right now, I'm just ... I just... feel soooo not capable of handling
all this. It just seems like too much to do, too little time, with too
little resources. I know I want to do it. I know it's a great
opportunity, but I don't know if I'm CAPABLE.

It's just at this point where it's not even "there's not enough hours
in the day"... but more "I just want to go home, lay in bed, beneath the
covers... give into the fetus-me, and let my brain become mush and just
not deal with everything I have to do." It's not that I don't have the
TIME to do everything, it's that I'm so preoccupied with freaking out
about it all, that I can't focus and get anything done.

It's just... it's just a matter of too many projects. I really think
I'm just working on too many little things at once. And my sanity is
seriously going to be the one that loses out.

I just don't know where to start anymore. I'm working on so many
different stories, all of which are missing pieces. And all of them have
the potential to be really good... but I just can't finish them. So they
loom over me, and I end up looking like a crap-tastic journalist who
can't crack a story. And maybe I am. I don't know.

And it's not just work. My house is a mess. And just the thought of
making a dent in that pigsty makes me want to hide in the corner,
forming a cross with my loyal bottle of Mr.Clean and Febreeze. *baaaack
vile creature! baaaaack!*

Then there's this curling thing, and the Spark story, Christmas
shopping, work truck drama, the skidoo-stuck-in-the-box, and the fact
that for some reason I seem to be much less articulate than usual ...
leaving me sounding like a bumbling idiot to the ears of my producers,
editors, interviewees, coworkers, RCMP, and blog readers.

I really think I need an epiphany shower*.


*http://scrubs.wikia.com/wiki/My_Porcelain_God

6 comments:

Robyn November 4, 2008 at 6:23 PM  

That whole stress fetus thing? YOU JUST DESCRIBED MY LIFE. The only difference between you and me is that I'm paying $48,000/year to feel this way.

And you're not here to watch mind-numbing TV in my bed :(

Life's hard.

Meandering Michael November 4, 2008 at 10:54 PM  

As a wise, wise man once said, "You can do it!"

KOTN November 5, 2008 at 9:00 AM  

Don't forget, the lack of sunlight this time of year -- and especially the transition -- makes everyone a little loco.

Jackie S. Quire November 5, 2008 at 10:22 AM  

Robyn: Life IS hard. Man I miss university. I have this feeling being a stress fetus is just so much more fun in groups of two or three than all alone.

MM: Thanks for the words of encourgement. It should be ME encouraging you and Fawn that YOU CAN DO IT. Not the other way around. But squeaky wheel, I guess.

KOTN: Yah, I think I've gone loopy since the time changed. I was looking over my last couple posts, and it looks like I'm totally bi-polar. "I'm happy, I'm sad, I'm ESTATIC, I'm stresed" LOL.

Robyn November 5, 2008 at 6:08 PM  

NO, you don't miss university. You miss university FOUR YEARS AGO. I made that mistake too, and now I'm paying for it.

And yes, the stress-fetusness would be much better if you and Andrea were here. I try to commiserate with my new roomie, but she talks louder so I never actually get to say anything. So basically I end up being her therapist, instead of the two of us talking our stress out together.

I miss you so much it hurts :(

PS: your word verification is plizzle, and that made me laugh.

Mongoose November 5, 2008 at 8:55 PM  

When I get stressed I make a list of everything that needs to be done, then prioritize it, and then I work down the list and just focus on one task at a time like nothing else exists. That way I get more done and I don't feel the stress.