You know, Oliver, I sometimes think I was born with a genius - an absolute genius - for doing the wrong thing.

It's raining (again), there are contractors in the house preventing me from taking my noontime nap, and I chafed myself somewhere uncomfortable during my run this morning...SO let's talk about some Oscar gowns! I've been a bit disappointed with the selection this year. Everything seems to be a throwback to the 80s. See, for example, this one, which I have dubbed the "What about prom, Blane?" dress:

But there are a few contenders. Badgley Mischka, $6,955:

Love the shiny tuxedo look!

Elie Saab, $14,875:

A similar neckline to last year, but I can't turn down this color.

Oscar de la Renta, $13,290:

Who doesn't love a textured mullet dress?

Jenny Packham, $3,775:

Because a badass 40-year-old can totally pull off a jumpsuit.

Ralph and Russo (everyone seems to be wearing this designer this year!), $28,810:

AKA, "You Could Just Go Buy a Car Instead." 

So, what should I wear?

High Anxiety can be a very dangerous enemy!

My brain is a master at concocting what I refer to as “anxiety dreams”—basically, nocturnal exercises in frustration. They usually take one of two forms:

1. I need to do something simple, but ridiculous circumstances prevent me from completing the task (e.g, I need to get dressed but there’s something wrong with every piece of clothing I put on)
2. For some reason, I’ve been forced to return to a job/situation I hated (e.g., I’m back working as a patent secretary after a 14-year leave of absence)

It’s hard to shake these dreams after I wake up—the circumstances are false but the anxiety’s effect on me is real. I’ve always been an anxious person, but now that I’m 40 and much more sure of myself than I was in my 20s, my day-to-day anxiety is much improved (also thanks to medication). Apparently my subconscious hasn’t gotten the message, though, because my brain routinely roams my college campus at night, desperately trying to remember what, where, and when my next class is.

I’ve dealt with anxiety and depression on and off for about 20 years. Thankfully the depression is in check right now—the last time it flared up was when we moved to Charlotte. I was lonely, my beloved dog had just died, it felt like my kid was throwing tantrums 24/7, and we were all stuck in an apartment waiting for our house in VA to sell so we could buy a new one. House hunting under a cloud of depression was particularly challenging. I remember telling my husband that I could be objective, but that I wasn’t in a place where I could get excited. About anything.

I guess my point is that it’s frustrating to not feel in control of your own mind. It’s frustrating to have to rely on medication (and to find the right dosage that will make you feel better without gaining 20 pounds). And it’s frustrating that, often, anxiety is still in control of my nights—although sometimes I can wake up and laugh about it, particularly when the dream is something as ridiculous as “Harry Connick Jr. needs you to find and train a choir of apes.” I think I’d rather do that than go back to being a patent secretary, anyway.