I keep looking for deeper meaning behind this twitching, which I realized was pretty stupid about an hour ago as I was scrubbing dishes.
There I am, focusing on this twitch in my side, wondering what it could possibly MEAN. Am I over-stressing myself? Is there something wrong? Should I google and see if I should be worried? (I swear google is responsible for the world's increased paranoia.) I mean, maybe I'm not taking this twitch seriously enough. Maybe it's a sign. Maybe it's only the beginning. MAYBE THIS TWITCH TRIGGERED THE APOCALYPSE.
And then I laughed at myself, because, c'mon, it's a twitch. I did a lot of lifting yesterday. It is most certainly nothing to worry about. Yet there I was trying to milk that little muscle spasm for all it was worth.
I've always had a talent for making something out of nothing. While it comes in very handy with writing, it can get in the way of my actual life. It's called anxiety. Yes, I have anxiety. For a long time I didn't want to admit it—despite the family history—but having come to terms with this part of myself has helped me cope with it.
I've been changing a lot, guys. And my life has been changing, too. I really, really wish I could tell you all the reasons why, but alas. They are family things and personal things and even a couple writing things that I can't share.
But suffice to say my life is changing, and I'm still figuring out how to be this new me. It's like any shift in life, be it going to college or finishing, getting a new job, moving, getting married, having a child, etc. The changes happen, but it takes some work to adjust. That's where I'm at right now. I'm adjusting. Even good things require some adjusting. I still don't quite know how to be this, but I do know I need to stop worrying about every little twitch in the process. They pass. You keep going. There's no reason to turn it into a sign of the apocalypse.
Because sometimes a twitch is just a twitch.
Huh, considering that I had no clue what to right today, that turned out pretty good.