It takes me 20-30 minutes to write these posts in the morning, depending on how fully formed threads of thought arrive in my mind and how many interruptions I end up with, etc. etc. So that should mean waking up at least 20 minutes early in order to get this done  and not be under stress and pressure for the rest of the morning.

This morning I started 10 minutes before what I’ve calculated as “Optimum Wake up Time For Minimum Morning Stress” and then proceeded to faff about reading stuff on Facebook rather than starting writing here.

Even though I know it’s important to me. Even though I know it helps my mental health. Even though this morning I feel like I particularly need the preparation of this quiet brain-to-myself writing time.

Nevertheless she persisted in her procrastination.

I am feeling Urgh and weak and DoNotWant! about going back to work this morning after the unexpected boon of two days off this week. Honestly, I think I have been a little physically ill. I have to keep saying that because a) I’m not so ill that I’m noticing it every second of the day and b) I’m likely to be a little hard on myself for my less than optimal performance otherwise.

But it’s feeling weird to start the week half-way through when I wasn’t prepared to do so. And my running yesterday felt about 3 months back in my training – or even felt a bit like the days after I’d just given blood.

Okay, but enough whining. Just get on with it, right?

Yeah, but.

Can’t I whine here? Isn’t that my gift to myself?

Maybe! But you’ve gone and shared this blog with other people and they have to wade through this dross.

I’m cranky and irritable too. My poor cold-infested husband was Darth-Vader breathing in the bed beside me and I basically threw him out to go blow his nose because I Just Could Not.

I don’t like that about myself. When things reach a certain critical mass of irritation in me (given a certain alignment of the stars to have primed me for optimal irritability to start with) it feels like my main human compassionate brain just shuts down and I have difficulty in standing the noise or distraction that’s getting under my skin.

If I have to tolerate it, then it’s nearly impossible for me to tolerate it without saying something or at least react in some way.

Here are some things that get to me and turn me into an unreasonable monster who wants to kill and maim or do anything at all in order to make it stop:

  • Chewing and smacking sounds when people are eating.
  • Ticking clocks
  • Clicking pens
  • People rubbing their eyebrows the wrong way
  • Snoring or clicky breathing
  • People fidgeting near their faces: twirling hair or beards
  • The scraping of cutlery on plates
  • Squeaking of whiteboard markers

There are more, of course there are, but those are the main ones I can think of right now.  They raise violent feelings in me and I can barely disguise the feeling of utter panic that rises in me.

I guess these feels are definitely a candidate for Not Funny Just True. What does it even feel like? It feels panicky, but also violent in reaction to the fear and panic – fear that it won’t stop. Panic about how I’m meant to tolerate it, because it’s societally unacceptable to tell other people how to chew or breathe or what to do with their bodies.

It doesn’t stop me being super unreasonable with the people I’m closest with though. And I am sorry about how unreasonable I’m being. I just can’t stop? I don’t buy excuses like that though. I’m a human being not a bundle of reflexes. Surely there’s something I can do to stop this short circuit. Why is this something that’s even present in me? What possible evolutionary purpose is it serving?


And now the time has ticked on far too late. I’m passed the 20 minutes of writing and starting to panic that there isn’t enough time to get everything ready in the morning without stress. And yet it feels like until I get up and start moving no one else does either. My faffing seems to be contagious. I don’t want to be the panicked nagging driver of the morning. I refuse it. I refuse that role and I won’t fill it.

I’m just a bundle of raw nerves this morning because I’m thrown off my usual path. Breathe. Accept the path that lies ahead right now.