Funny isn’t it?
It’s the stuff you can’t or don’t say in a blog that matters the most.
All the stuff that is breaks our hearts, upsets us and stresses us to the point of not being able to string a coherent sentence together is hidden behind a funny anecdote or a moan about the weather – and even that’s going on the ‘too hard to do’ pile lately.
Well, today I’ve decided enough is enough and this stress is better out than in. Not that I’m going to be divulging the secrets of others – oh no, if you tell me a secret it’ll go to the grave with me, nor will I be ranting about how unjust life is or how inconsiderate and selfish people can be or sharing my deepest darkest but ever present fears with you. But what I will do is acknowledge that life if getting pretty trucking ficky at the moment and I’m not sure I’m handling it all that well.
It’s at times like these I remember the words of a psychologist I once knew who told me that “If you think you aren’t coping then really you are. It’s the people who don’t know they aren’t coping who end up in the funny farm.” It’s a small comfort but one I hold on to.
I reached my stress tolerance limit at some point in the early hours of this morning when I got up for a nocturnal bathroom visit.
Swinging my legs out of bed I suddenly felt like I was on a roller coaster, and that was only the beginning. Stumbling my way to the bathroom I held tightly on to the door frame as I fought back waves of nausea. ‘Oh bloody hell, not this again!’ crossed my mind as I lurched across the bathroom and sat swaying on the toilet seat, holding onto the wall like a drunk after a hard night on the bevy.
Bodies handle stress in all kinds of ways, I know some people who break out with eczema, others who rant and rave ( I do that as well) but my body’s chosen method of telling me it’s time to calm down a bit is to give me some nice vertigo type symptoms which make me virtually unable to function in any useful manner. The doctor tells me it’s because my body has got so used to releasing adrenalin that it does it even when it doesn’t need to. Of course when I’m not fighting or fleeing it doesn’t get used up so it sits in my body making me very dizzy and nauseous.
Have you ever tried to dance a waltz or a paso doble when you’re as dizzy as a cuckoo? Let me tell you, it aint fun. Our teacher chose this very morning to make us practice a few nice spins and spirals. Probably not our best dance lesson ever if I’m honest. I danced most of it with my eyes shut and stopping to clamp my hand over my mouth in case I vommed all over our teacher. He wasn’t having the best day himself having sustained a few bruised ribs in a car crash a few days ago that he was lucky to have survived. To have vommed on him would have just added insult to injury.
So there we are. I’ve admitted it.
I’ve dropped my balls, my plates have crashed to the ground and my Wonder woman costume has got egg on it.
I’ll end this with some more words of wisdom from the same psychologist.
“You bloody women think you can do everything. Well you can’t. Stop trying.”