Panicky

So, I haven’t bragged here yet about the fact that I got into uni. Yes, it’s official, I have 3 acceptance letters and I’m just waiting on one final reply and then comes the fun decision time. I’ve been trying to pick between Bradford and Nottingham Trent and I think I’ve settled on Bradford but I will need to make a few more lists before I am sure, because if I’ve learned anything from Rory, it’s the value of a good pro/con list. But in the meantime, while I am waiting for the last letter to arrive(because if I get in there I’m going there for sure) I have had more panic attacks then in the past 10 years combined, I think. It’s stupid, seriously. It all started with my mother panicking about me needing pajamas(I still don’t quite get that one because I don’t think I’ve worn pj’s in the past, oh, 6 years or so). And then my insanity started. I don’t know anything about England, I really don’t like Shakespeare, I need to do more research, I can’t even name a store, what if I need a haircut??? Breathe in a bag. And then: I am insane, I will become Unabomber chick, I won’t understand a word they’re saying, I can’t remember any of the chemistry I ever learned, I need to learn chemistry again, I will get lost twice a day, why the fuck am I doing this and what if I really, really need a haircut? I told you it’s irrational(why would I suddenly forget every last bit of English I know or my ability to orientate in just about any city? And while I’m on it, where did this sudden need for a haircut come from?). And that is just the really short version of what is going on.


I keep making lists in my head and they all come down to the same thing: what was I thinking? Why did I decide on this? I’m 20 and moving to a country where I’ve never been with a suitcase and a carry-on bag(or whatever the regulations for the amount of stuff you can take on an airplane with you are these days). Sounds like a fun adventure but not so much when for the past 4 days you’ve been having recurring nightmares where your bags get lost and you have to wear the same clothes for a month and then you finally get them back(the bags, not the clothes) and they’re filled with pots and pans and there’s a pair of shoes in one of the pots but no other clothing. No, no, no! I might not care that much about what I wear but I need more then one change of clothes. And after I’ve told this dream to a friend she decided it’s a good idea to mock me so the bit about me wearing the same clothes over and over again became a regular piece of conversation over the past days, to the point where she should thank the gods that she’s 300km away from me, otherwise I would have strangled her by now. And guess what I’ve discovered? The stress diet apparently works like a charm because in the past 4 days I lost 3 kg. That’s 6-7 pounds(I can’t be bothered to stop panicking long enough to do the actual math…6.6 pounds. Something about converting everything from one currency to the other kicked in there). And I am getting so close to starting to scrub the floors it’s frightening, partly because it’s 4.30 AM and partly because I cannot, for the life of me, remember the last time I scrubbed the floors. And I have just changed my socks because I felt very icky after that last thought. And I have no idea why I am panicking like this because it’s not like I’m shipping of to ‘Nam, I am just moving a short plane ride away and there are people who move from the East coast to the West Coast or the other way around(although, to be honest, they stay in the same country), and I have lived alone before and if you really think about it the plane ride is shorter then the bus trip from my last college attempt home and I have great organization skills, so I don’t really have to worry because I always pull thru anything and if I use “and” one more time I will have to shoot myself.

Add all that to the fact that I can't sleep for more then 3 hours at a time and you can get a pretty good picture. Oh, and I am also wondering why I didn't panic the first time I went to college. I cannot remember one moment of panic then but now it's Insane Asylum Express. Imagine what it would be like if I drank coffee(yes, in the interest of not buzzig like an atomic bee I have stopped the coffee intake for now-but I am smoking like a maniac, which only seems to make me more nervous).

And, yes, I know that there are still 5 and a half months to go and everything will be fine, clothes will be bought, bags will be made to fit somehow, research will be done and hair will be cut. I just really wish my brain would stop working for 24 hours so that I can get a good night sleep. No, really, I’ll be fine. I hope. I just have to remember to breathe. But please don’t suggest that I be rational. That would cut drastically into my insane time.

I just need a hug.