I just don't know what to do with myself

You know what is lovely?

• When you left work at 7 pm the night before with only two hours of meetings on your calendar for the following day, and come in at 8:30 in the morning to find your entire day gone, lost to the abyss of back-to-back meetings.
  
• When you are asked a question, answer it, and then get the sour puss face that suggests, ick, I can't believe I had to ask her this question- she's so beneath me, because you don't have a few fancy initials at the end of your name.
  
• When you recommend someone doesn't get hired, your manager decides to hire her anyway, and just to make life more twisted, makes her your direct report.
  
• When you get a rumbling in your stomach at 6:15 pm and suddenly realize it's because you only had time to eat a cup of yogurt between meetings all day.
  
• When you work from 8:30 to 6:15, and then feel like a total slacker because you are considering going home and sleeping, instead of finishing two hours more work or, heaven forbid, instead of working on The Goal.

Y'all, I do not know what is wrong with me. I really ought to calm down, go home and bake something, but it feels like everything I do is accompanied with guilt and a pit in my stomach. Work on The Goal, feel guilty about shirking urgent work issues. Work on urgent work issues, feel like a jacka$$ for not focusing on The Goal. Work on getting my mental health back in some capacity, feel guilty about indulging myself in such extravagance.

The most foolish part about wracking myself with such guilt is that it causes a state of complete paralysis. Indecision causes inertia. I am blogging right now because I am trying not to throw my monitor across the room. I know this does not make for very fun reading, and for this, I apologize most humbly. Believe me, I know I've been selfish in many capacities of late- selfish friend, selfish blogger, selfish reader (or non-reader in many cases, sorry), selfish hoarder of the happy things that have happened that I haven't bothered to write about at all. Self-absorbed, selfish, self, self, self. And now I am sick of myself, and stalled out.