guilty as charged

Have you seen that commercial about Nate, the guy who's been late his whole entire life?



That's me.  100%.

I pretty much can't be on time for anything unless I have severe anxiety about it, in which case I allot so much time to get there that my lateness is counteracted and I end up being a tiny bit early.  I'm never late to church (I refuse to walk in there after the service has started), but I'm always late for Sunday school.  I almost always hold up my friends when we go somewhere because I'm the last to arrive.  Many know that it's best to arrive at least five minutes late when meeting me, and I should be there within the next ten.  I tell you what, I hate it.  I hate hate hate being late all the time.  And every time that I am late, I feel super guilty to the point of having long-lived anxiety.

Hello, this week.

The more tired I am, the less able I am to keep track of the clock and get places in a timely fashion.  The later in the year, the later I arrive to work.  Last year, I started out getting there by about 7:20 each morning.  I was arriving much later by Christmastime, though still comparatively early.  The break recharged me and I got back on track; however, by the end of the year, I was struggling again.

This year, worse.  I realized I didn't have to be at work quite so early, so the pattern has been moved to later still.  I was good, I got late, I did better after break, and the past two weeks have been terrible (as far as arriving to work on time; otherwise, they've been alright).  Great timing for the administration to start cracking down on people getting to work late.  [here's where I pretend that it's not my fault, and then we'll get back to me taking responsibility]  Also a great time for the traffic to be ridiculous and for cops to start appearing everywhere so I can't speed.  That totally cramps my style, making me late even when I didn't leave the house late.

[and now we're back to the responsibility deal]  That being said, everybody knows that you always plan for contingencies.  You plan for the cops and the traffic and the left-turn holdups.  And when I'm lying in bed in the mornings, those are the things that I write off as myth.  I think, I can get up a little bit later because lots of the time the traffic is okay, and I'll just straighten my bangs and the top layer of my hair, and I'll buy lunch at school...and then I get there a good few minutes after the kids have already been on the hall.

The principal caught me coming in late yesterday.  He told me there were kids on the hall and that he needed me down there.  I felt incredibly guilty and it messed up the rest of my day because I was mad at myself for being late.  I vowed to do better today.

The principal caught me coming in late today.  He told me that it wasn't good that I was late two days in a row and I could totally hear the disapproval in his voice.  I felt even more guilty and it messed up the rest of the day for I was furious at myself for being late again.  The second-worst part was that I'd left five minutes earlier and still arrived too late.  The first-worst part was that I knew the principal's opinion of me had diminished, and honestly, that killed me.  I can't stand it when I disappoint someone, especially when it's highly justified like this, and double-especially when it's someone I admire greatly.  And I think the world of this principal [I'm almost positive he doesn't read this blog, so I'm okay with putting that and still not feeling like I'm brown-nosing or ingratiating myself].

So here I sit, with it almost one in the morning, and I am writing this because I had to get it off my chest or I wouldn't be able to sleep.  Because yes, I'm still highly angry with myself and I'm still feeling thoroughly guilty despite all my "It's over and done, you'll do it right next time, and you'll be okay" talk.

If I'm late again next week, I don't think I'll be able to sleep at all no matter what I try (shoe shopping did the trick last night, by the way -- I couldn't sleep, I shopped online for half an hour, I slept like a baby after that).  I expect that I'll want to quit my job, too, out of pure shame.  Clearly I can't afford to do that, for I wouldn't be able to afford new clothes and shoes.  Or rent.  So I'd better get my act together before I'm forced to never shop again.

I hate being late.  It has such unhappy consequences.