This image was posted in a travel group I belong to and it struck a chord in a huge way:

It’s me!

My “low tire pressure” light on my dash has been on for a few days now and I can’t bring myself to do a thing about it.

Seriously. The idea of putting some goddamn air in my tires has me paralyzed with anxiety.

If I just ignore it, it will go away, right?

It’s incredibly stupid and I’m so mad at myself.

I sort of know how to handle this. I know enough that I’m sure I’d figure it out. But I’m terrified of being watched and laughed at.

So terrified, in fact, that I’m avoiding dealing with it.

I hate myself for letting it slide, because I don’t really know the repercussions of waiting on this. The current story I’m telling myself is that I’m going to handle it over the weekend, but I also keep imagining a group of guys laughing and pointing while I try to figure it out and I can’t breath when I think of that, so goddess only knows when I’ll actually summon up the nerve to tackle this [incredibly mundane and basic life] task.

Fuck these feelings. I hate this. And I hate myself for having these thoughts, for feeling this way, even for wanting to write about it.

I’m so sick of my weakness and disgusted by myself. I can’t put air in my fucking tires. Seriously. What is this?

And yet, the idea of jumping on a plane and just figuring shit out upon arrival in a new destination doesn’t bother me one bit. I’d much rather do that than figure out that stupid air pressure thingy at the gas station!