Growing Pains

I've had to take some time to myself, mostly to think (for one) and for my Harry Potter Holiday. I attend the midnight showing each time a HP film comes out, and this one was no exception. I quite enjoyed it, and spent the past week in pleasant expectation and a bit of excitement about the event. I went alone this time. I thought I'd be a bit melancholy about that (it was, after all, the first Harry Potter movie I attended by myself), but it really wasn't bad at all--made it easier to get a seat, for one. I didn't have to go at 9pm to hold a set of seats, either. Walked right in at 11 pm, pulled out my knitting and whiled away a half hour before the previews started. Rather nice, actually. I might do that again for the second half next year.

Anyway, the other thing I had to do was think. About my life, my direction, etc. I'm a big one on the navel gazing, as you may notice. I always second guess myself--not always a bad habit, but I overdo it--and am constantly checking and rechecking my life 'status'. It becomes a problem when I'm so busy checking my status quo that I never change it. Which is most of the time, if you want the truth. I think so much I paralyze myself. I need to learn to act and stop thinking about it so much.

I also, because of my habit of thinking myself into a paralytic state, worry a lot about my life going nowhere. Because it is, you know. I don't change a lot of things because I'm so worried about the changes I'm making: Am I changing too fast? Not fast enough? In the wrong direction? What if I'm going in the wrong direction? How will I ever change course again? etc., ad nauseam until I'm ad nauseam. It gets aggravating; don't think I don't appreciate that fact. I know I can be boring with my constant wangsting and worrying and tail-twisting. Gods, if you are bored of hearing me talk about it, imagine how dull it is to have that as a constant litany inside your head! The only time I didn't do this was the six months I was on Paxil (for my OCD), and I can't honestly say I made any good decisions at the time. Granted, I had days on end where fewer than four thoughts total went through my head, so I didn't make any decisions as far as I can recall. In truth, I'd say that was mostly a period of time in which my family could have just propped me up in the corner for all the good I was to anyone, particularly myself (except I must note that after the whole Paxil incident my OCD went into remission. Not sure if there's a connection, but I can touch the laces to tie shoes nowadays without going into hysterics and I'm very grateful for that, so I can't regret it completely.)

So this week, I was watching one of those Biography specials (on Biography Channel, imagine that) about Ian Flemming. The Bond guy. At one point in the show, the voiceover said (right before a commercial, so you'd stay on the channel through the break) something along the lines of, within a year he'd married, become a father and a best selling author. And I thought, Wow! That's a lot of new stuff to cram into a year; imagine where I could be by next Thanksgiving if I do the same sort of thing! Then I thought, Oh, my. That'd hurt.

There's a part of me that would like to be able to change my life that rapidly--just imagine where I'd get to if I did--but then I think about my physical growth spurt. Everyone goes through it, I'm sure you remember yours. The bit around puberty that made you clumsy because suddenly your feet were farther away than they had been just a week before? Most people have gradual growth spurts, say around 4 or 5 inches in a year to a year and a half. Mine was 10 inches in a year. I went from 4'9" to nearly 5'8" between beginning freshman year in high school and the start of sophomore year. I started out one of the shortest kids and before long I was one of the tallest. And it hurt like hell--imagine being stretched on the rack and you get the general drift. My legs, especially, ached all that summer.

Personal growth is like that, too. Yes, it was nice to shoot up to full adult height in such a short span of time (if nothing else, it saved terrifically on clothing), but it hurt like the dickens. I could change my life that quickly, but that will hurt, too. Change of any kind is chaos, and while I'm not morally or philosophically opposed to some tasty, tasty chaos, it's greatly unsettling. Particularly to someone of my rather high strung and nervous disposition.

So, even though I would like to change my life and sometimes think doing it quickly would be best (sort of like pulling off a band aid) I'm not sure I could tolerate it well. I mean, I don't doubt I would adjust, I just think I'd probably be a bitch to be around for the entirety of the life change. I don't do anything quietly, and sharing my personal pain is a hobby of mine. I've only just recently discovered the knack to making friends, and I wouldn't want to alienate any of the very nice people I've met.

Granted, I'm pretty much a pain in the arse most of the time anyway. I'm not sure how much worse I could be if I just...threw myself into remaking my life and getting it over with in one big, ugly blurp of personal growth, although I know I can get a bit shrewish when I'm under pressure. There's a part of me that still thinks it might be the best way to do it (hell, I've been thinking about it for ages, all I'd really be doing is putting those thoughts into action), and there's a part of me that thinks 'yo-yo dieting for the soul'. That the changes I made wouldn't stick because I'd freak out or something and I'd rebound back into my previous life shape out of sheer terror.

I still might try it, though. It's tempting, oh, so tempting, for someone so cautious as I am to think of not thinking. Oh, so tempting....