If I am being rational, I will admit that there is a numbered list of things I have to do, and that I can, reasonably, accomplish them all.
I am frustrated by my anxiety. It overwhelms. It renders me useless.
The solution to having "too much to do" is neither to try to do all of them at once, nor the other option: curling into a ball in my bed and doing none of them.
I feel unproductive. Guilty. Absent-minded. Nauseated.
When will it be July? When can we get into our little car and drivedrivedrivedrive until we reach the shores of the other side of our country? When can I eat an ice cream cone at a gas station in the middle of the prairies and think about how my life contrasts with the life I'm living now?
Things pile up.