Once I realized what was happening, I self-sabotaged myself with humour: calling myself a doormat or someone who stood pretty strait for someone with no backbone.
If anything happens, I need to hold. I have to shut my ego up and not be so hard on myself that I’m not beating odds. They’re clearly stacked against me in a way I can’t get around.
I can't say what exactly was the trigger. What I do know is I tend to shove everything into a bottle that's constantly being shaken.
CRASH--SPLASH--TING! You have GOT to be kidding me.
I'm starting to notice a pattern where I dip badly into cannot cope mode, hopefully I can figure out how to better plan and stay ahead on my writing. Personal accountability is what's beating me up.
In my case, I'm unsure what to do. It's a hard one to get people you know to stop asking you, let alone complete strangers. I welcome suggestions.
It derives from Christian superstition: thirteen people were present the night before Jesus' death on Good Friday.