Today was one of 'those days'. I think today was a peak Day. So many irritating things that could have been avoided, happened, and it totally sucked. Each event gave a little bit of my happiness away to self hatred. And I started to explain each event through a very personal explanation, not that "shit happens", but that it was my fault. That part of the problem was that Today I found myself floating around in space to such an extent that I probably graduated from space college, from space cadet to fully qualified astronaut. It was an off day, with shit things happening and my shadow using them to remind me that I was 'off.' And so as I sat looking at my spilt tea slowly spreading across the floor, and I was at such a loss. It was the last thing on top of a shit sequence of events in that day, not just because I wasn't paying attention because I didn't have the headspace, but also the pressure, and tiredness, and unhappiness. And I was really looking forward to that tea. I had a whole packet of Nice biscuits prepped and ready for maximum dippage. But I started thinking, maybe I'm actually cursed? Maybe witchcraft exists? Maybe it's the universe? Maybe there is a chaos theory and I am part of it? Or maybe it's just my spatial awareness? And my depth perception? and my short term memory? Maybe all of them together work at just the right level to create a halo of 'inconvenient' affect around me? Maybe there's an increase in probability of formally static objects falling over around me that could be statistically significant when compared to other people? (which would be hilarious) Maybe I only actively experience my life when things actually start to go wrong? Maybe I only pay attention when things could go wrong? Maybe I'm prone to anxiety because it serves a social function and adaptation to my lack of awareness?.. Maybe social anxiety is a learnt strategy because of a need to be aware in social situations? Maybe I'll never fit in? It took me a while of complete despair and over analysis to realise, like the click of a kettle reaching its boil, that I could just make another cup of tea and stop fucking thinking so much; stop taking myself so seriously; that I can learn from each mistake and not feel so doomed to failure. And when I did I felt so fucking proud. Im happy I made that decision. It felt like restoring balance, like breathing out, like following a flow downstream instead of up it. It's the first time in a while I've been able to without obsessing over my thoughts. And that second cup was fucking excellent. And I remembered it when I ripped the wing mirror off my car on a pillar, later that night pulling out of a parking bay. That's progress, baby.
No comments:
Post a Comment