I just walked from my room, where I was trying to rest, into the lounge room (which is open plan with the kitchen and dining room) and it hit me exactly WHY I feel like shit most of the time. WHY my brain fails to cooperate when I need it to.
I’ve been stressed for a long time. We have tried everything to help get my SUDS down, but at the end of the day, my life is complicated and that is that. Right now though, today, I should be feeling a little bit better. And I am not. I should be feeling better because after weeks of appointments piled on top of one another, I have three days at home – free. I keep willing myself to feel the ecstasy I feel that I *should* feel, but it just won’t happen by sheer will. There is something standing in the way. And as I looked around me, I figured out why.
It is because my work is NOT done. The flurry of appointments may have ceased for a few days, but the work is not nearly over. My brain is still going with this, and that, and this other thing over here. There are boxes over there that need to be returned to a charity, and rubbish over there that needs to be taken down to the garage. Food over there that needs a home in the pantry and over there is some scrapbooking material that needs to be put away. A form there needs to be filled out – one that involves some time and thought together, and they never seem to be available together. In there are some papers that mean I have to make some phone calls at some stage. Back there is a lay-by that my husband picked up that I have to go through and organise. And then there are all the clothes baskets in our room that need attention at some stage. The fridge is a mess – I don’t even need to view that for it to now enter my consciousness, for now everything seems to be flooding in demanding my attention.
And the room starts to spin and I feel sick and I sit down, hoping to find some clarity. None comes. The noise of my two sons playing or fighting, but always screaming, intrudes on my brain like hot pokers. And then *snap* – I have a body jerk (myoclonic jerk). And another and another. There are so many thoughts, I can’t even tell what thoughts there are – they are all one jumbled mess like someone took all my paint and poured all the different colours into a container simultaneously. It’s impossible to just pick one thought out without fifteen others coming along for the ride ensuring that no one thing can be dealt with at all.
All there is now is noise. White noise. Black noise. Noise.
I am as good as useless now for hours, most often, until tomorrow.
My husband asks me what I want for dinner, and I think “fish?” Then it starts, bam! Fish, ocean, China, chinese food, no can’t afford it Japan is near China oh I used to live there I love cherry blossoms though they make me ill other plants I like are maples but I’ll have to travel to see them too…
Only it all comes out in my head as ‘fish, chinese, Japan, maples… What the fuck were you asking? I don’t remember.’