I made a list. It has no end.

I had this conversation this morning:

Quit being so paranoid.

Me: I'm not being paranoid.

Yes, you are.

Me: No, I'm not. 

Yes.

Me: Aaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuuggggghhh! 

At least, that's what I wanted to say.

Instead: sigh.

I am not being paranoid. 

I am stressing the fuck out.

Yeah. OK. Boxes to pack, tests to take, papers to write, presentation to create, clinical to prepare for, work... 

Nope. Nothing going on here.

And, by the way, where, exactly, am I moving?

Oh, yes. Right.

Nope. Not paranoid. Just stressed.

Definitely stressed.

Barf. 

I hate that I can't focus on, say, the test I'm taking tomorrow because the number of things coming at me is making it hard to breathe. 

I've been lulled into stagnation/ crippled by a fear I can not describe.

I didn't know I had anxiety until this.

Last night: Yeah. I'll get up and rock the psychiatric meds list after boot camp. Then I'll make sure everything is in line for my policy journal. I won't need a nap; I'm going to bed early.

When I woke up at 3, I was ready. 

At 5, not so much. Which just makes me wonder:

What happened?

How could so much have changed in two hours?

Also? Why the fuck didn't I just get out of bed?

So now I'm procrastinating. 

Because that always helps with making the to-do list shorter.

I feel like my friend K, whose favorite way of eliminating the things on her to-do list is by losing it.

Only I can't seem to lose the damn list.