Clincially Insane

Just recently Cody and I were having a conversation. I was telling him about something I do, and then I paused, contemplated what I had been saying, and said:

"You know... I'd make a good insane person."

Cody: "Yeah, but that's how I like you."

Me: "Insane!?"

Cody: "No. But a little bit crazy."

Well good then! Because I am. Very much crazy, in fact.


What was I telling him about? Stress. How much I stress. When I stress. What I stress about. Which is... everything. "It's what I do," I said. "Give me your problems, I will stress about them for you! I will be your own personal Jesus!" (Kidding, of course).

But lately, I've been stressing about this wedding. I've been stressing about what I need to get done, if I am doing enough, if it is pretty enough, if I have paid everyone, contacted everyone, invited everyone, und so weiter. Silly, I know. And I realized this. So a week ago I made the defiant choice to stop stressing about the little (and big) wedding stuff and take it one exciting day at a time. Problem solved, right? No! Now I am stressing about stressing too much! I am stressed that I let this all pass me by without enjoying it. I have stressed so much that seven engaged months have passed and I haven't done anything but stress. So instead of stressing about the wedding, I'm stressing that I haven't enjoyed the engagement because I've been stressed. I'm stressed that after I'm married, I'm going to look back and be disappointed that I didn't enjoy this part of the relationship as much as I wish I had. What did I do instead? Stress.

I, Lindsey Reed, stress about stress. Ugh.

I would make a good insane person, no?