You know sometimes everything can be so very confusing…and sometimes you don’t feel like a mid-20 something, and sometimes you feel like that very confused teen…back in the day, when the stresses in your life seemed so much like ultimatums. If it’s not been very clear already, this month has been stressful and I know exactly why that is. And the stress certainly won’t clear…not by itself. I’ve been an unrecognisably stressed version of myself…all due to the impending completion of my research and the procrastination associated with writing my thesis. With all of this ‘delightful’ additional stress…I’ve been snappier (I would duly advise all to avoid the circumference for the next few weeks), more emotionally charged (which only means one thing…something I’m not proud of, and often unable to explain…waterworks) and of course, more aggravated (even in situations where normally a triage system would be applied…I just throw all of that out of the window and go straight to the most immediate response…yelling, screaming and throwing punches…yup that’s right…I’m sorry J).
And what does all of this mean for normal physiological function? Not good, not good at all. I’ve been eating more to: a) distract myself from everything that’s piling up and b) procrastinating…in a horrible way. My muffintop is staying. And other functions have been…impeded also. But let’s not talk about that shall we? I talk about it more than necessary with people who really wish I wouldn’t!
But you know what? Despite all of that stress…I feel very light today (not supposed to be an ill-timed pun!…but very appropriate). In fact, I’ve felt this way since this weekend. After a series of unfortunate events, starting with my car blinking out on me (Get Well soon sweetie!), I had time to mull a lot of things over, and it’s strangely odd how those events somehow led to me realising that the stress is simply not worth it. It’s not worth me losing my composure, my balance and to some extent my sanity. I’ve felt horrid the last few weeks, I let myself be controlled by a hormone, when I should be the boss and be telling IT where it should go. And that simple realisation was enough to free me from my self-made prison. It’s a horrible feeling knowing that you’re drowning and being unable swim or float…
PS. Throw me a buoy…or better yet, get the RNLI, Nazra needs a hand…or two.