Call the Wah-mbulance

Okay, shut up for a second. Wedding stuff has begun in earnest and a grevious personal flaw has reared it's ugly head. I have a serious mental problem. It goes like this: Anything I like, I go ahead and like it. That way I can think I like it until I realize it’s me liking it and then I start doubting it and thinking it’s stupid because I like it. What’s wrong with it? I ask myself that same question over and over again. There must be something wrong with whatever I like, after all, because I’m the one who likes it. You follow?

If anyone catches me liking this, they’re going to know I like it and then think I’m an idiot because I like it and clearly it’s stupid for Lo! stupid little Karoline doesn’t know anything and it’s obvious because dude! Look at that? She likes that? Ugh. What a horrible, weak, ignorant person she is. Judge judge judge. Sneer sneer… end scene. Exit stage right.

I just want to be amazing and fantastic and perfect. Is that too much to ask?
Small order. N’est Pas? You know – just to be adored, and adorable, and wonderful, and effortless, and simply di-vahhh-ine is all I ask. After all, I’ve already been lucky enough to get everything else I’ve ever asked for: financial security that reaches beyond the next two paychecks, good-enough looks, lovely sweet hair, smarts, a partner I could count on in any situation starting from zombies and second comings and all the way to pizza and a movie on the couch at home… all I want now is just perfection. Sheer, unadulterated, pristine and glassy and unalterable perfection.

That and for everyone to kinda just stand there in awe of it, with one or two just seething with gut-wrenching jealousy. Some tooth-gnashing would be cool, but I don’t want to be greedy.

Too much to ask? Yeah, you’re right. I hate that kind of spotlight. It makes me die.
See the first paragraph on why. (interestingly, stuff I don’t like, stuff I can’t stand… usually doesn’t affect me as deeply. I have no trouble saying that I’m NOT with something. None at all.)

Mental problem? Likely. Also as likely that every single other person walking this earth has felt SOMETHING similar on this little “I hate me WAH!”-scale at some point or another so it’s not like I’m the only one out here clawing my eyes out for no good reason.

But still. When it comes to making a decision about something for which adults (in general) and women (specifically) are constantly judged on… often harshly so… often absurdly and against impossible ideals and unattainable standards… I’m kinda stuck in a teency little neurotic loop of giving myself too much pressure and then feeling bad about it immediately thereafter. Cure for which is then of course heaping upon myself more pressure and more guilt. Insert a few warm Saturdays where things go really well and I start feeling better and lightening the hell up a bit… and then lather, rinse repeat. And we’re just talking about a wedding here, folks. I’m not even BARELY on the map when it comes to a REAL judgement-fest like parenthood.
I have to go pass out now.

(in other news though, everything really IS going swimmingly and at the end of the day when I"m not passing out from sheer panic, I'm actually HONESTLY enjoying myself. a good rant here and there helps underline that, actually.)