So far, this project has touched on some heavy topics. I’ve delved into my fears associated with potential infertility, academic pressure, relationships, and my years-long battle with my body. And, while these things are all very important and poignant, I want to take some time to talk about the little things, the day-to-day heart-rate rising changes, the reactions that I have no control over, and the “go with the flow” mentality that so many of my friends seem to operate in with ease. Here are some scenarios that make my blood boil:

​

Being late. When I commit to being somewhere, I will be there on time. I guess I inadvertently live by the saying “early is on time, on time is late, and late is fired.” If someone says they want to meet at 6, okay, I’ll be there at 5:58, and you will probably be there at 6:12, my blood pressure increasing with every passing minute. I guess those breathing exercises my shrink taught me would come in handy in these moments, but I’d just rather sit in my discomfort, and become increasingly pissed off. (Not actually, but it seems I am incapable of any alternative). The other night, I was making dinner for my parents and told them it would be ready by 6:30 and to be ready to eat at 6:30. If I am making you dinner, at least respect me enough to be home in time to eat it when it is still hot. But no, they just had to go on an hour-long walk and not be home until 6:45.

​

Flakiness. Okay, so here’s the thing. I don’t like leaving my house. I like to be comfy and hope to wear jeans as infrequently as possible. But, if we make a plan, I will fucking be there, even if it means taking off my fuzzy socks and actually brushing my hair. The second you indicate any sort of ambivalence towards the plan, I will probably lose it. Oh, you have to schedule an emergency gynecologist appointment because you might have an STD? Fuck you, I wanted to go to the Poppy fields. How do I have friends?

​

Waking up late when we have a plan. Okay, so this one is probably the most “out there” pet peeves of mine, but let me attempt to explain. In an effort to be less Type-A than I am, I have become comfortable going to bed with the basic expectation that I have a plan for the following day. The details are rarely if ever, ironed out but I can convince myself that it doesn’t matter. Cut to the next morning. I’m awake at 8:30 (because my body refuses to let me sleep) and by 10 am I am pacing around the apartment. How can I manifest you to wake up, I’M HUNGRY, and want my brunch.

​

Oh wow, writing this is making me anxious.