I'll take my own problems, thank you

I'd been moaning, groaning, pulling out my hair and gnashing my teeth for a few hours over this story I'm working on. Or rather, the research for it. It's not going well, basically because I don't understand most of the information I'm reading about, and adding my lack-of-focus and other assorted neuroses to the scenario is compounding the matter.

This morphed into self-recrimination and all sorts of really mean, awful haranguing inside my head -- like little trolls were conspiring to criticize, ridicule and crucify me: :WHY ARE YOU SO BEHIND? WHY CAN'T YOU GET THIS DONE AND GET ON WITH IT? WHY ARE YOU SO MESSY? WHY ARE YOUR CLOTHES EVERYWHERE AND PILES OF LAUNDRY ALL OVER? WHY? and WHY HAVEN'T YOU DECIDED ON ANOTHER VOCATION/LIFE PLAN YET??? and WHY HAVEN'T YOU SENT YOUR FRIEND KATHY A WEDDING GIFT YET, WHEN HER WEDDING WAS TWO MONTHS AGO? and WHY AREN'T YOU GOING DOWNTOWN TO THE ART EVENT OF THE SUMMER TONIGHT, INSTEAD OF STAYING HOME AND LABORING OVER THIS STUPID STORY? WHY CAN'T YOU GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER??!

I was really getting worked up and depondent -- even  thought, "I need cognitive behavioral therapy" to shut this negativity up inside my head.

Then my friend Jaybee called and updated me on her latest job-related boss-is-a-frigging-prig saga. She's having a rough go of it and expects to be fired any day now. They want to "accompany" her on a couple of her appointments and take her to "lunch." Since corporate is four hours from here and they hardly ever come up, she's pretty sure this is curtains for the job she once loved.

I feel bad for her -- on top of that, she has no one to love her. Her parents are dead, and she's not been in a relationship in five years. I'm sorta worried about her. Like, what would a person do? Would she hurt herself?

There's a saying that goes "If everyone put their troubles out on the table, they'd take them back" rather than swap troubles with someone else. Or something like that.

I guess all things considered, I'd rather be a disorganized mess of an underpaid piddly obscure writer and behind on deadlines than to be in my friend Jaybee's spot.