Melting

The last time I felt like this, it was my senior year in college.

I was trekking down to the city from Poughkeepsie three days a week to intern at VH1. On my two days off, I was taking two night classes, learning digital editing during the day, and putting on my trashy uniform to be a shot girl three nights a week. I also had endless amounts of drama in the boy department. It was entirely too much.

What finally happened was this: I shut down. I began sobbing uncontrollably, went into my bedroom, pulled the covers up over my head, and stayed there for two weeks. I don't remember eating, although I know I must have, and I know I didn't shower. I didn't take any calls or leave the house. I ignored anyone who came into my room, and had every intention of staying there forever.

A friend of mine had other ideas, though. He came over, physically pulled me out of my bed, dragged me into the shower with all of my clothes on, turned the cold water on and said, "Clean yourself up. We're going to Taco Bell."

Chances are, I'll be able to pull it together before it gets to that point. But I'm stuck in this cycle of being so overwhelmed by everything I have to do that I do nothing, and then beating myself up for not getting anything done. It's pretty awesome.

It's too bad Taco Bell doesn't have those veggie fajitas anymore. They'd really hit the spot about now.