Tuesday, May 27
My mole hill turned into a mountain last week.
"Don't sweat the small stuff darling" I heard too many times.
"Let it all go" I heard at least a dozen times.
"Relax" was a common response to my whimpers.
I tried and I failed.
The juggling clown dropped the balls.
The stress I carried became a bullet and it shot right out the side of my head. Literally.
Late last week I felt a pain by my ear. My neck started to swell. I dismissed it as a bug bite gone bad. It happens.
Hours later I was writhing in pain. My neck felt like it was full of gravel. Correction: tiny hand grenades that were blowing up in every direction. I dragged myself to the doctor and (drum roll) guess what? Stress can cause you pain. It can compromise your immune system, it can blow up all the nerve endings in your head and start a revolution led by tiny little Che and Fidel axons. It can manifest itself into tiny bombs and it can hurt your body just as much as your mind can.
So I've been ordered to rest.
Do you know how hard it is to "rest"? One as lazy as me should find it easy but in reality I guess I'm not really that lazy. Sure, I turned the ten second rule into the ten minute rule but when it comes to doing "stuff", I actually do a lot of "stuff".
Crap. I'm rambling and I don't like where this post is going.
In my head this post was going to be cathartic. I was going to scream about the folks who have been pissing me off. The folks who have been dragging me down. The people in my life who are such f**king passive-aggressive shits and think I take their antics in stride. Folks who think their actions go unnoticed because I'm too dumb, or too nice, or too stunned. People that ask for help and never say thank you. Oh I notice and no I don't take it stride. I take note and lie in wait. You hand me shit, I smile and write you name down. Really folks, I just play stupid in bloggeritaville but in real life, folks know not to screw with me because if you piss me off - mark my word: your time will come.
But of course, screaming about this solves none of my problems. It probably causes more because some vain creature out there is going to say "omg, she's talking about me, she must be talking about me" which then should make them think "how did I know she was talking about me". Probably because you did something you freakin' wanker. But no one who reads this blog is a wanker right? So I guess I'm not talking about you, am I?
I also wanted to talk about those loads I carry but cannot unload. I really want to share my stress because if it just lightens the load for a few moments and maybe helps someone else feel normal because they look and say "hey, I know that load, I carry that load, I'm not alone" - it would be worth it.
But I can't.
Instead I rest.
Who knew I would suck at "rest"?
Grrrrrrrrrreat... one more thing I suck at doing.