Feeling Ill

Why am I like this? Any change -- even any prospect of change -- makes me nauseous. Not only that, but so keyed up I can't seem to sit still (and yet manage to be utterly unproductive at the same time. I know, it's a gift). House anxiety is overwhelming me. If we move, I'll be unhappy for Reasons, Set A. If we don't move, I'll be unhappy for Reasons, Set B. Worst of all, I am caught in a nether-hell of indecision.

My husband, he of the not-terribly-helpful school of Get Over It thinks I am certifiable. How could I not be happy with the new house? WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? He wonders in completely unsubtle tones. He is very fond of a little philosophy he calls "Losing by Less," the idea being that you're going to lose one way or the other, so try to minimize your loss by taking the less (albeit slightly) obnoxious path. So looking at this through his eyes, I should jump on the chance to move because it trumps the losing by less game (he would argue that it's not even losing by less -- it's actually winning).

But it doesn't feel like winning. It feels scary and unfamiliar and uncomfortable and a lot like losing.

How I would love to be like Tim's buddy, Dan. Dan, as far as I can tell, never gets fussed about anything. Anything. I would love to be on that sort of even keel. Okay, so maybe you never feel spectacularly elated, but neither does your stomach devour itself with worry. Then again, I would still be me and I am often able to get worked into a positive frenzy over things that are complete non-events for other people. Again, it's a gift. And it should be noted that I live with Tim, who has a real talent for making me feel backed into a corner (like saying -- "If we buy this house, we won't ever have to move again. We could live here until we die." What? No exit clause? That makes me want to hyperventhilate.)

So here I am, in what probably qualifies as the stupidest quandry in the free world. I feel like I'm between the rock and the hard place. Seen with a little perspective, I'm really between the comfy chair and the sofa. Just how much do I really want to stretch out?

Sometimes it is really hard to be me.