It starts in my stomach. A little flutter of queasiness. And then it builds, coursing up my spine until my brain slows down and speeds up simultaneously. Racing thoughts pushing me into overdrive all the while my body creeps to a halt, unable to keep up with the list repeating like a religious chant through my conscious.
Beating against that is the rhythm of friends and family reminding me. "It doesn't have to be perfect. Don't worry."
"It will be so much fun regardless."
Don't worry.
"You have most of it done!"
Don't worry.
But when your thoughts are running laps around you, it's hard to stop. I find myself wondering how I am going to get everything done in time. I know I will. I know it's not about perfection, but I can't help but fret. Ask my mom, it's in our genes.
And still, there is a voice inside my head that reminds me: It's July.
It's freaking July.
When the hell did that happen?
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