Pinky Promise (with Myself)

So, its been an interesting couple of weeks; and the whole phone situation, etc. has kind of made me go:

Whoa, time to chill the F out.

I was doing so well, being a grown up for a while - but I have fallen a bit off the adultwagon recently. Like when I was a teenager, & I had acne; I'd take the acne medicine until my skin would clear up & then I'd stop taking the medicine because I didn't think I needed to anymore (because my skin was clear, duh) and then lo & behold, I'd break out again.
This time, I told myself that I needed to get my act together & I did; but slowly, while telling myself I had somehow 'reformed'; somehow under that guise, I slowly slipped back into the same old patterns of behavior - the acne of immaturity flared right back up.

Yeah, something like that.
Except, ya know, a Reckless Adult.

So I  am putting an end to it. Today. This Monday, I don't feel like hiding out (perhaps because I don't have a phone anyway) but I do feel like going home, staying in, and doing so until the Dutchman arrives. In two weeks. (More on my feelings about that later.)
Basically between losing my phone (or having it stolen, not sure) & a couple other things that have happened recently, I am not very happy with myself. I was on the phone with my best friend in Northern California last week, and I had apologized for doing what felt like hiding out - but then she pointed out that I hadn't been hiding out at all - I'd been going out and out and out.
To which I responded,

You're right. You're so right - its not that I've been hiding, it's that I have been secretive.

Not good, Capital NOT.
Honestly, I've been anxious and sad lately, and I think I have put pressure on myself to be perfect for the Dutchman when he comes back, I am anxious about when he does come back, I put pressure on myself to have the perfect body on the Fourth of July, & many other things... But sometimes when I put that sort of pressure on myself, I rebel. I rebel against myself, if that makes any sense. I'm the Rebelling Rebel Ballerina. My feelings of insecurity and anxiety make me go the entirely opposite direction; so I have been self-destructing a little lately.
So, I am making a Pinky Promise with myself; I am holding myself accountable for my actions. I promise me that I am going to get back to being comfortable just going home, and being by myself instead of grasping for somethinganythinganyone to do or be with. When I do go out I am sending myself home at reasonable hours. I am not going to allow myself to act like a 22 year old Lost Girl. Because I am not that girl.
You know, I struggle sometimes with being honest with myself, I can tend to sweep things under the rug and refuse to deal with them. I put blinders on until everything falls apart, and then I look around at the pieces wondering how the fuck it got so out of control.
It's even harder admitting feeling like an utter fucktard in a blog that your friends (and your mom) read. So losing my phone has kind of given me the space to edit out my contact list ifyaknowwhatImean, to refocus on Me, to take a couple days where I only talk to the people in my life that are important enough that I have their phone numbers memorized. (Which, unlike most people in this day & age, I know quite a few.)
I'll (hopefully) have a new phone in a couple days, but until then, its kind of just me, myself & Kat Moss.
This wild lost little girl schtick has gotten old.
So, it has been decided that I am making the binding pact with myself:
I pinky promise myself that I'm going to go back to acting like a Grown Up.