I freaked out today.

Twice.

Freak-out No. 1 occurred about 30 seconds into my workday…so many emails, so much to do and where to start first. Though technically I’m salaried and could work more than 40 hours if I needed to, I try really, really hard not to need to. (‘Cause, you know, I’m working on that whole writing as a second career – ahem, unpaid – thing.) But this week it’s going to take a feat of absolute awesomeness to get ‘er done in 40.

 Freak-out No. 2 occurred approximately 8 hours later when I walked into my apartment, backpack, laundry basket and computer bag in hand after a weekend away. Words like “pathetic” and “woah” and “someone please help me” do a fairly good job of describing my state of mind as I took in the clean laundry from a week ago still waiting for folding in a pile on my living room floor, dishes cluttering the countertops and carpets in desperate need of vacuuming. Sidenote: I couldn’t vacuum if I wanted to ’cause at the moment my aging vacuum blows more than it sucks…and yes, that’s a funny play on words. I’d laugh if I wasn’t so annoyed.

Yeah, that second freak-out rivaled the first one but good! Be happy tonight that you don’t live with me. (Hey, on other days I’d make a swell roomie. Like the days I make chocolate chip cookies.) But tonight? Yeah, welcome to Grumpfest 2010.

My antidote? Chinese and a good book. 

Thing is, I’ve been about one word away from tears for a week. (Not sure what that one word is, but if you say it, we’ll all know.) And they’re not necessarily “sad” tears, just “heavy” tears. My adorable nephew’s little heart needs surgery. I want to be there for him and his parents. I want to do something to help. But what can I do? (Other than have trouble focusing on work and writing, let my apartment go and chop my hair off in a hare-brained – haha, I’m all over the wordplay tonight – attempt at feeling better.)

And I just feel…behind…on so, so much. (Eek, I’m supposed to have entirely rewritten my book by July 31. Could someone please talk to whoever’s in charge about adding a couple extra weeks to July?)

Then I remember…

…I’m just the aunt of little Oliver. The concern I feel can’t compare to what my sister and brother-in-law feel, I’m sure.

…There are families who lose babies, whose health complications are too much for any surgery or treatment.

…Some people live thousands of miles, oceans apart rather than just a couple states.

…Others would give anything to have any job period, let alone one that provides a challenge.

…For most of the men, women and children who come to us at Hope Ministries, a home like mine – messy or not – would be a luxury beyond belief.

Generally, I’m not cool with comparing pain. Hurt is hurt, period…whether you’re hurting over a sick pet or a break-up or cancer or death. I hate it when I hear someone (or worse, myself) de-legitimize someone else’s pain.

BUT. It’s not always a bad thing for me to compare my situation with others. When I get whiney and complainy and freak-out-y, it can be a good, good thing to give myself a figurative kick in the pants. To take a deep breath and re-enter reality. It’s what I needed today. It’s what I did…uh, after chinese…52 pages of escapist fiction…two cans of pop…and a drop-kick to my broken vacuum.