Human beings are very well versed in putting themselves in awkward and uncomfortable situations. We love to push the boundaries don’t we? We’re addicted to forcing more aspects of our lives into increasingly stressful areas, or maybe as a species we’re just stupid creatures of habit, end of. I’ve covered some of this before in my earlier posts, but this time I’m experiencing the side effects of idiotic human behaviour. Read on, you’re going to love this!
We all have things that irritate us. The dogs barking in next doors back yard, the way the postman constantly drops your letters on the wet floor before thrusting them in your letterbox in one soggy pile, mobile phone ring tones and many other wonderful nuances that make up life as we know it. Some of these are changeable depending on age, sex, location etc, but go with it.
There are a few things that irritate me, and when I say a few I actually mean hundreds. No joke. And when I say irritate I really mean; “Please God make it stop because it’s making my skin so insanely itchy that I just want to rip it clean away from my body and scratch my nerve endings with a cheese grater just to get some relief!” That’s a quick and easy explanation by the way!
Example: A cup of tea is being made, it’s background noise to whatever I happen to be doing. I don’t drink tea so the process is filtered out by my brain as irrelevant data. BUT when that spoon begins to stir the tea, that horrible nasty taptaptap jingley-jingle sound seems to enter through my ears at 10,000 decibel and rubs its big meaty rough fingers all up and down my spine. I just want to leap from my seat and smash the tea-cup/mug to tiny pieces and throw the spoon as far away from me as possible. Why? Why has this become such an irrational irritation?
Parked cars are another one. If a car is parked close by, stationary yet with the engine idling. Right next to it outside or 3 stories up in a building, I can hear the deep chugga-chugga sound, it is low and bass and sits in my stomach like a midget with a huge pair of lungs using a black hole as a didgeridoo. Really. That low-frequency engine noise makes me feel sick, like I will actually rolf my lunch across my desk if I listen to that fucking sound for one second more.
Tiny insignificant things cause me to get so wound up. I have never ever been like that, and pride myself on being a calm and laid back easy-going kind of person. Lots of patience. Where did that chap go? Feels like he’s had enough and popped outside for a crafty fag, and left Norm, the irrational stoopid geek in charge of my brain.
Even arguments get the insane-in-the-membrane treatment. I love a good debate, the back and forth and flow of the argument, really gets the creative juices flowing. But it seems that these days I can’t help myself but argue the toss of the most mundane and stupid of things! I’ll just keep going and going if I know I’m right, regardless of the outcome or who I am arguing with. Where did this need to be right and correct people come from?
Moods – Dark and Pointless.
You don’t have to be a woman to experience the highs and lows of MoodyTown. The highs are always fun; our team/club/division/family member etc won…woop woop, yeah high-five! You get the picture. The lows suck though; empty nothingness eminating from the chest, a feeling of pointlessness, loss and sorrow, a why-bother-what’s-the-point thing.
I got home from work the other day and felt deflated. I’m usually positive, smiling, happy, jokey kind of person, but that evening I was empty, no emotion whatsoever. I lay on the floor with my netbook, checking emails out of habit. On Facebook I have…had a lot of information about myself, I filled it all in baby, it was overflowing with stuff all about me. I deleted almost all of my personal information and in the Bio section I wrote:
my smile has gone
my happy has worn thin
my joy has been used up
i am sadness
Then in the What’s On Your Mind box at the top of the page I wrote “Sadness”. Not in an EMO Kid look at me, look at me, I am daarrrrk way. I didn’t want attention. I wanted to say how I felt and instead of using my voice box I used my fingers. Those few short words summed up my entire gang of emotions. Didn’t make me feel any better though!
I’m a guy. Guys don’t make a habit of examining their emotions, feelings or moods. Several weeks ago I spent an entire weekend feeling so pessimistic, down, fed up, worthless and without purpose. I’ve become aware of this feeling dropping on me like a sack of jelly more often in recent times. Quite where it comes from or why it shows up out of nowhere I haven’t got a clue.
I do know that it’s a horrible feeling, and that I can’t shake it when it comes to visit. I hate it. I also feel guilty amongst other emotions. Guilty because I shouldn’t have anything to feel bad or low about. Guilty because I’m not supposed to feel negative – happy positive person here!!! Hello!! I actually hate writing about it…hate writing any of this down if I’m totally honest. This isn’t a fun event for me, but I do it because it might make me feel better.
Eyeballs and Fingertips
Here’s where it gets weird. Ever have that numb dead sensation in your arms from sleeping in a strange position all night? Well it seems my body enjoys that feeling so much that it keeps that sort of numb tingling in my pinky and ring fingers on both hands. All the time.
I get my eyes tested regularly and have a prescription for glasses, mainly for when using the PC. Until recently I’ve not had any issues with my eyes, however I know have a horrible painful thing going on. My eyes feel as if they are steaming hot and melting in their sockets when I look at an LCD that is too bright. At both work and home I have the brightness turned to the lowest setting so the screen resembles paper in a way.
Any brighter and it feels like my eye balls are being burned. They get hot and start to water and I have to turn away. It really is so very painful, even after an hour or so at that low setting I have to turn away, and this is whilst wearing my glasses! How gross is that?
The mad dash for the toilet.
We’ve all been there, ate something bad or too spicy and spent the next day on the toilet with roll after roll of toilet paper, icy cool fresh from the fridge. Aahhhhhh! Sizzle. I’ve been like that several months now, and it took a long time for any doctor to say I had IBS, Irritable Bowel Syndrome.
This was particularly nasty for months and then all of a sudden it vanished. Left me for half a year and then the last few weeks it has returned with a vengeance. I have an evil pain in the lower left side of my stomach, just above my hip. I’m dashing to the lavvy at all times of the day and night and this pain just will not fuck off regardless of what pills I stuff down my throat.
Doctors are funny…well, no they’re not but….
I explained my problems to my GP with difficulty, not really finding the right words to describe everything but managed to convey most of it through random wordiness and hand gestures. It wasn’t a pleasant experience either. I’m not really one of these macho types who needs to be the big brave warrior, the bread-winner, the king of the house, untouchable and strong and stuff. It just didn’t feel right admitting there were things about me that didn’t make any sense, well, more than usual.
If I have something physically wrong with me then it’s all fine, “Hey Doc, I broke my wrist, both my legs, shoulder bone too. Fix me up would ya!” Absolutely no problem with that at all. But talking about my irritations and weirdness that creeps me out is just plain bizarre, a real no no area. I don’t have problems, that shit happens to other people, and I usually make some humourous comment about it.
Doc stared at me. I stared at Doc. Result: Maybe I should keep a stress diary and he could refer me to see someone so I can “talk things through” with them in a few months time. Doc stares at me again. So if there’s anything else….? I left with the feeling that a conversation had been missed or overlooked, or that a result had not really been achieved. No box had been ticked that said: [Crazy Person] or [Needs Pills] or [Perfectly Fine]. I just expected more, some kind of guidance perhaps, a nudge in the right direction maybe, even a vague gesture or shrug would have been somewhat helpful. But noooooo.
I spotted a book on stress the other day. Had a big friendly Smiley on the cover. Looked approachable, not too condescending or patronising so I bought it. Turns out judging books by their covers is still a silly thing to do. Anyhoo, I had heard good things about this book called F**k It – The Ultimate Spiritual Way. Wandering same book shop and started flicking through F**k It. I liked it. Nice easy words, clean white pages, attention had been paid to the clean crisp font too.
The writer John C. Parkin appeared to have written the entire thing with a wry smile on his face or at least hanging on a chain around his neck so he could slip it on quickly when the mood was right. I scanned a few pages and really enjoyed it, this Parkin dude was making a lot of sense. I handed over my dosh and read the first few sections right off. I’m still digesting his words of wisdom but it seems that saying Fuck It is very liberating.
I’m not saying this one book is going to cure me of any of this weird crazy bullshit that has come to visit but it may just help make me feel better. This has been a real bitch to write, not my usual fare at all. I wanted to get it out of my system so I’m not worrying about it all the time. I have no idea how to deal with any kind of stress, until now I’m like everyone else – we can’t recognise stress even if it shows up in a clown costume, laughing like a loon and squeezing a car horn…honka-honka arooooga.
I’m drained now.
At some point I’ll be able to look back on all this and laugh – hahahahahaha!
I still have some sense of humour.
Stressed or not that will never change.