This weekend is my annual weekend getaway for scrapbooking. A group of us has been getting together for many years. In fact, I can never remember how long we’ve been doing this. My friend, Stephanie, helps us remember each year. I think it has been at least 7 years now. We are meeting at a chalet we rent at Innsbrook which is nice and close, so we can all come (and go) when it works best for us.
We planned this about 3 or 4 months ago. There are 8 of us, so finding a weekend that we could all go, and that the chalet was available, wasn’t easy, but that’s why we plan it so far ahead. Since then, I’ve passed up various opportunities because this weekend was planned. (This is quite the popular weekend for community theater performances. Oh well, there will be others.) It didn’t matter. This is an important weekend.
I’m getting so excited. Then, I get this really stupid feeling. What if it doesn’t live up to my expectations? What if it’s not as great as I’m anticipating?
I’ve been this way almost my entire life. The anticipation was often greater than the actual event itself. So, whenever I get excited about something, I worry I’ve built it up.
Case and point, Halloween night we always get together for a party at our neighbor’s house, and it’s always a good time. But by Halloween morning, I was not wanting to go. Several extra people were invited, and I thought the evening just wouldn’t be the same. Then, of course, it was a blast. Quite the roller coaster of emotions. I can almost hear my therapist telling me it’s a waste of my brain. Tough to break a habit that I’ve had for 30+ years.
This weekend, though, I’m 99% sure it will be wonderful. I always make sure I get my sleep, so the cropping ’til 2 am doesn’t happen for me anymore, but it doesn’t matter. We have hours and hours of laughs. Plus, I do actually get a lot of pages completed for my scrapbooks. That’s just a side bonus, though.
It’s a Girls Weekend. And I can’t wait.