I think I might have post traumatic stress disorder.

In the last 2 weeks I have:

*run a 1/2 marathon (I'll stop talking about this soon, don't worry.)
*spoken to hundreds at Women's Conference
*stressed out about running 13.1 miles (stressing out is a real thing, right? I mean it's not like you can fully enjoy relaxing, sleeping, watching tv, etc because part of you is preoccupied, right?)
*stressed out about going to Women's Conference (what does this mean? Who am I? What is expected of me? Where is the fudge everyone's been talking about? What--they serve Bajios in the hall!? This is a whole new world AND I LIKE IT!)
*stressed out about what I was going to wear to Women's Conference (I hate to admit that, because it seems so predictable, but it was a process and I just ended up wearing something comfortable and old from my closet, so it was all wasted energy. I'm sure there's a point in that, and maybe it's that I hate to admit when I'm girly and predictable, but, there you have it.)
*watched my son set apart with the Aaronic Priesthood (emotional!)
*watched my son pass the sacrament for the first time (he looks so young and so old at the same time--how can that be?)
*sent Topher off to Austria
*gave Miles a no-holds-barred sex talk (the final chapter in my 4 part series. I'm kind of kidding, but mostly I'm not.)
*Did 16 loads of laundry (I usually don't count, but I did to make this post seem more dramatic)
*Went to a piano recital, baptism, 3 baseball practices (I kept typing "rehearsals" because I couldn't think of what they really call it in sports), and all the "regular" places (Target et. all)
*tried to relax

I told myself that I would "take it easy" this week and not worry about exercising and just lay around and watch tv and read and do whatever I want, but I've found that I have all this nervous energy that I've apparently become used to that I can't sit still. I know this feeling will wear off soon, but until then I've gotten a lot of stuff done and things crossed off my to-do list. Really, the garage has never been cleaner and the cupboards are organized and all that. But I'm sure that things will end badly. Like, I might pass out at the grocery store and sleep for 5 days, or I might start staring at a stain in the carpet and it will put me in a drooling trance. I know, I know, I lead a glamorous life and it cannot be sustained indefinitely! (Because if VH-1's "Behind the Music" has taught us anything, it's that you can't live in the fast lane forever. . .)

AND, I keep
*obsessing over Lost and HOW IT WILL ALL END just keeps my mind spinning and running and racing.