Friday the 13th, and on the recovery road - driving around to a nearby village (with wool shop), and to a couple of retail parks to pick up groceries, printer cable, resistance bands (which like the yoga mat, are going to do good just by being in my house rather than the store!), and some tights.
Passivity was going through my head today.
Firstly, I reached out to the Facebook group to ask for tips on self-care. Daily gratitudes seems to be the consensus, along with (for one person) prayers and meditation. My mind turned off. I equate self care with actually doing the things my body needs to be healthy which I often neglect. I don't often think about self care for my mind, and to be honest, I'm probably scared to, scared that my adult persona will crumble and I'll become a child wailing "it's not fair" again. It's nudging up against that CBT downwards spiral of low self esteem, thinking about gratefulness.
Secondly, the downstairs neighbour was playing loud thump thump thump music for around four hours. I'd banged a chair on the floor after three and a half hours, a couple of times, with no result, other than feeling shamed and annoyed that I was worked up, full of adrenalin. I then got up the courage to go and confront them, got my crutch and knocked on the door.
"Is that you, playing the thumping music?"
"Was that you, banging upstairs?"
"Yes, it's really loud even without my hearing aids."
"You should have just come down and asked!"
"Um... broken leg..."
Then, pondering passivity and how it was now somehow my fault for behaving unreasonably and banging on the floor rather than the neighbours for playing the music loud in the first place. And using my crutch to elicit sympathy when it didn't even work. And when I can get around without it. More shame.
I went upstairs to bed early (the dark nights, and the exhaustion of doing nothing, and the emotional exhausting of behaving badly). The neighbour to the side of me was having a party too, his birthday, guitar music and singing. I recognised some of the songs. It was annoying, after I'd mentioned the noise below to him, but I had gone to bed, was naked, and didn't feel like getting up and dressed and yelling over the back fence. Maybe, because of that, I had an excuse for being passive. It didn't annoy me as much as the thumping bass either.
Finally, with the broken leg, there is a mindset I've got into. That I am not quite right, and I will do all that when I am better. World class procrastination. I'd like to snap out of it, to feel energised and actually do stuff. But not enough to actually get up and do it.
Showing posts with label fear. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fear. Show all posts
13 October 2017
17 August 2016
#awakeaugust 17
acid panic
there is a small bag I need to pack for my flight tomorrow
I saw it, four or five days ago when busy tidying, organising after my new office and hallway were completed
roiling frustration
I need to calm down and then it will be found, some time today
I sit in front of the white wall and type, soothed by clickety clicking
Awake August facebook page here
there is a small bag I need to pack for my flight tomorrow
I saw it, four or five days ago when busy tidying, organising after my new office and hallway were completed
roiling frustration
I need to calm down and then it will be found, some time today
I sit in front of the white wall and type, soothed by clickety clicking
Awake August facebook page here
06 January 2011
Muffled
I have a cold, not a bad one, but it's shrouded my hearing. I didn't turn the volume dial up on the way home, it was not silent but the radio talked at itself. The engine mumbled, and I tried to imagine hearing the rain falling on my windscreen, but even the occasional squeak of the wipers was muffled today. It makes me feel very distant, cut off. Being wrapped in cotton wool is always supposed to be comforting but I feel slightly panicked, as if the sounds will never come back, I will remain forever marginal, liminal. A figure in a parallel mist world.
24 October 2010
Rumpelstiltskin
Each night he shut me into the room,
he wanted gold from me.
He wanted me to spin a web about it
about what he did.
I had to pretend that I enjoyed it,
that I would have done it
even if I had the choice,
that this cold damp room was
our haven from the world.
Of course I wanted to know his name,
but it was not for revenge,
how could he think that now?
No revenge because he took pity on me
and let me out
when I was gravid.
I want to know his name
so that my child will have one.
19 April 2010
Tracks
The scene, tranquil on the face of it was subtly horrible. The tracks leading off into the forest, the trees louring over, darker as they drew my eye onward, until at last I was gazing into a black hole.
Stuff of childhood nightmares, I was never able before to bring the fear over into waking life. There was a picture of a woodland scene at Granny & Grandad's bungalow, above the fireplace. The colours were wrong too, oil paints in daubs of too bright yellows, olive splotches and the hint, but only that, of the darkness at the end of the track.
One day though, I opened a book, a classic, and read for a while until I got to a scene where four hobbits cower at the side of the track on the edge of the wood while unknown dark beings seek and sniff for them.
The memories then came flooding back, a nightmare where the monster lurks, I try crouching down in the wood, a tangle of roots I hope will hide me and prevent the monster spotting me. And the book has me hooked, there is nothing more evil than the nine black riders who search for you. Primal fear of being discovered. Being looked at. Freud would no doubt have a field day, as long as it is not walking tracks in the forest I don't give a damn.
Published at ThinkingTen in response to On Location Monday challenge
http://thinkingten.ning.com/profiles/blogs/tracks-1
Stuff of childhood nightmares, I was never able before to bring the fear over into waking life. There was a picture of a woodland scene at Granny & Grandad's bungalow, above the fireplace. The colours were wrong too, oil paints in daubs of too bright yellows, olive splotches and the hint, but only that, of the darkness at the end of the track.
One day though, I opened a book, a classic, and read for a while until I got to a scene where four hobbits cower at the side of the track on the edge of the wood while unknown dark beings seek and sniff for them.
The memories then came flooding back, a nightmare where the monster lurks, I try crouching down in the wood, a tangle of roots I hope will hide me and prevent the monster spotting me. And the book has me hooked, there is nothing more evil than the nine black riders who search for you. Primal fear of being discovered. Being looked at. Freud would no doubt have a field day, as long as it is not walking tracks in the forest I don't give a damn.
Published at ThinkingTen in response to On Location Monday challenge
http://thinkingten.ning.com/profiles/blogs/tracks-1
06 March 2010
Job security...
"Damn that bloody woman," the demon 53 Eville growled to himself, "who could have expected such a lazy fat lump to be such a tough assignment? And now I have to go explain myself to the Henchman!" He shook his head vigorously, ruffling up his fur and flicking his tongue out briefly. It was gonna be one hell of an interview. Bloody on-the-job appraisals.
In a infernally bright room 53 Eville's pupils were dialled down to narrow slits, and the Henchman stood in the far corner, cowled and dark, contrasting blackly with the room. 53 Eville though he couldn't have sucked in more light if he'd been a hard up office girl intent on getting the last dregs of the happy hour cocktail outta the bottom of the glass.
"ELUCIDATE," came the dark dude's command.
"Well, where to start? You know I was assigned to the woman Janice to encourage her to make the usual contributions, and well, on the face of it she looked an easy target. I mean, she lived alone with that black cat, she could do with losing a few dozen pounds so couldn't have expected a long life anyway. Well, you know the sort?
"So I incarnates into this form, you can see I'm a particularly handsome ginger tabby if I do say so myself, I mean, ideal for stealing any lonely old bitch's heart away. And, you know, it seemed to be working, I'd got an in to the flat and she set out two bowls so it was kinda like she'd made room for me there, so I thought I would have lots of opportunity to start the usual scarification program, yeah?
"YOUR TIME HAS RUN OUT," the Henchman said. 53 Eville had felt like he was burbling a bit, and wiped his white paw across his marmalade cheek. Sure, the Henchman was supposed to be impassive and weigh up the bads and the goods in the fiendish scale of things, but he wished he didn't feel so bloody nervous around him. Then it dawned on him, the Henchman was saying that this wasn't an on the job routine check up, it was the reckoning. He gulped, he had to explain himself as his life now did depend on it .
"Well, I started with the usual, dumping of mutilated mice, mangled birds, you know? And you know what was kinda weird? Although I caught and placed dozens of the bloody things around the flat,she only seemed to see them on the odd occasion? Well, that was when I realised I had to get rid of the other cat, musta been some sort of bloody guardian angel or something...
The Henchman waited, unmoving. 53 Eville flicked his tail nervously.
"Well, that took alot longer than I expected, ended up having to go for the ground glass in the food trick, takes a while but gets them in the end. And you know, my guess was right cos when the black cat form was sick enough, the angelic agent left the body pretty damn quick. The Janice woman was pretty upset by then, so I thought we would have her for sure, got the documents sent up from the Bureau, but she didn't look at them at all, straight into the bin they went.
"YOU HAVE STILL TO EXPLAIN YOUR FAILURE," rasped the Henchman
"I tried, I really tried!" 53 Eville yowled. "I sat on her hair so she thought she was paralysed to panic her, I shoved hairs into her mouth while she was sleeping to choke her, I sat on her shoulders when she was in the bath sleepy and drunk to get her head under the water; but I couldn't get her to believe! She doesn't think there is such a thing as hell, and I just couldn't get her to sign up with Infernal Insurance.
"YOU KNOW THE PUNISHMENT," the Henchman stated, "AND SOON BELIEF WILL NOT BE A PROBLEM."
And yes, 53 Eville did know the punishment, the fate that awaited him. He really had tried his hardest to avoid it, but now he would be transferred inside the body of the woman Janice while she had a free rein back here in Hell, taking over his sales job; as it seemed fewer and fewer people these days believed in the afterlife, perhaps she would fail also and return back to the hell that was Earth.
In a infernally bright room 53 Eville's pupils were dialled down to narrow slits, and the Henchman stood in the far corner, cowled and dark, contrasting blackly with the room. 53 Eville though he couldn't have sucked in more light if he'd been a hard up office girl intent on getting the last dregs of the happy hour cocktail outta the bottom of the glass.
"ELUCIDATE," came the dark dude's command.
"Well, where to start? You know I was assigned to the woman Janice to encourage her to make the usual contributions, and well, on the face of it she looked an easy target. I mean, she lived alone with that black cat, she could do with losing a few dozen pounds so couldn't have expected a long life anyway. Well, you know the sort?
"So I incarnates into this form, you can see I'm a particularly handsome ginger tabby if I do say so myself, I mean, ideal for stealing any lonely old bitch's heart away. And, you know, it seemed to be working, I'd got an in to the flat and she set out two bowls so it was kinda like she'd made room for me there, so I thought I would have lots of opportunity to start the usual scarification program, yeah?
"YOUR TIME HAS RUN OUT," the Henchman said. 53 Eville had felt like he was burbling a bit, and wiped his white paw across his marmalade cheek. Sure, the Henchman was supposed to be impassive and weigh up the bads and the goods in the fiendish scale of things, but he wished he didn't feel so bloody nervous around him. Then it dawned on him, the Henchman was saying that this wasn't an on the job routine check up, it was the reckoning. He gulped, he had to explain himself as his life now did depend on it .
"Well, I started with the usual, dumping of mutilated mice, mangled birds, you know? And you know what was kinda weird? Although I caught and placed dozens of the bloody things around the flat,she only seemed to see them on the odd occasion? Well, that was when I realised I had to get rid of the other cat, musta been some sort of bloody guardian angel or something...
The Henchman waited, unmoving. 53 Eville flicked his tail nervously.
"Well, that took alot longer than I expected, ended up having to go for the ground glass in the food trick, takes a while but gets them in the end. And you know, my guess was right cos when the black cat form was sick enough, the angelic agent left the body pretty damn quick. The Janice woman was pretty upset by then, so I thought we would have her for sure, got the documents sent up from the Bureau, but she didn't look at them at all, straight into the bin they went.
"YOU HAVE STILL TO EXPLAIN YOUR FAILURE," rasped the Henchman
"I tried, I really tried!" 53 Eville yowled. "I sat on her hair so she thought she was paralysed to panic her, I shoved hairs into her mouth while she was sleeping to choke her, I sat on her shoulders when she was in the bath sleepy and drunk to get her head under the water; but I couldn't get her to believe! She doesn't think there is such a thing as hell, and I just couldn't get her to sign up with Infernal Insurance.
"YOU KNOW THE PUNISHMENT," the Henchman stated, "AND SOON BELIEF WILL NOT BE A PROBLEM."
And yes, 53 Eville did know the punishment, the fate that awaited him. He really had tried his hardest to avoid it, but now he would be transferred inside the body of the woman Janice while she had a free rein back here in Hell, taking over his sales job; as it seemed fewer and fewer people these days believed in the afterlife, perhaps she would fail also and return back to the hell that was Earth.
31 January 2010
The right curtain
At first I hear a noise, quiet and slow, an echoing boom. It's the fall of giant footsteps, not too close to me now. But as soon as I recognise them I know it is time to run. From wherever I am, I must get home. From a view point just above my head, I see myself scrambling into a run. I am not very fast, but as I go round corners and duck out of the way of the other people all leaving the streets I am pleased that I don't fall. I keep my balance, and I feel confident that I will be able to get home in enough time.
But the booming noise gets louder, the dinosaur is getting nearer. I can't see it yet, but I have run as far as the street my house is in. Not far now!
Boom boom; boom boom; boom boom. The footsteps are louder and getting quicker. I should not look round. I can picture in my head how the dinosaur will look. I don't need to see it. I should not look round.
Now I know somehow that it is just me out there, I don't have to save anyone else this time. I just have to get into the house and close all the doors and windows so that it can't get in. So that it can't get me.
I look behind me to see how close the race will be this time. I know I should not look round but every time I do, and every time I lose my margin of safety. It is a tyrannosaurus, tall and rusty. Its head is above the rooves of the houses. Its tail is lashing along the hedge on the bank across the road. It sees me then too. Its eye is a pukey yellow green, weird like a goats.
I can taste something in my mouth, it is a funny taste you get when you have been running hard. I am breathless. I am 5 houses away from home, then I am past Mrs Rivers house and at Mrs Taylors house. They are both teachers at the big school but I am too worried about getting home to be scared of them now.
The tyrannosaurus is very near; I can feel the thump and the vibration as he walks behind me. I can see in my mind the large yellow-white curved toenails ready to rip me up. Oh please oh please let me make it home! Boom boom.
I can see the garage door swinging down in front of me, to keep everyone in the house safe. I have to make it up the drive and under the gap before it closes. I run so fast, and I can feel the sting at my knees as I squeeze and roll underneath it, just in time as the tyrannosaurus swipes an arm at me. The nasty nails clack on the outside of the garage door. It is bolted shut from the inside and the dinosaur cannot get in that way.
But it is still not over as I have to run through the house to check that every door is closed, every window is closed, and every pair of curtains is drawn across the window. The tyrannosaurus has stopped outside the house and is searching for a way to get in. I run up the stairs, and jerk the curtains in my brothers bedroom closed. I saw it moving outside the window, and I run into my bedroom.
Time goes slower, I take hold of the left curtain and pull it across. I pull it at the bottom and it takes a while for the top to catch up so there is a diagonal edge. The monster could see through the gap. I pull until the top of the curtain reaches the stop in the middle of the window then run for the right curtain on the other side of the gap.
I have pulled it halfway closed when the monster catches up with me. Through the gap in the curtains the final horror is going to happen after all. The tyrannosaurus bends its head to the window, and I cannot escape. The booming noise is still there but faint, reminding me of my run here, blood pounding in my ears. It bends its head to the window, turns it parallel to me. The line of its teeth skim by, and now I can see its horrible eye.
IT IS LOOKING AT ME!
A recurring childhood nightmare; always the chase, the panic, will I make it back home safe? Always I did and when I had to look after other, we all made it inside to safety. Sometimes I even woke up before the tyrannosaurus could peer through the windows; sometimes all the curtains were closed and I could sense it prowling outside, looking for another way in. I felt the creeping horror when I realised there was an unbolted window and at the same time so did the monster, but always the worst thing that happened was that I was looked at. I realise this part does not sound very scary in retrospect but at the time this was terrifying.
But the booming noise gets louder, the dinosaur is getting nearer. I can't see it yet, but I have run as far as the street my house is in. Not far now!
Boom boom; boom boom; boom boom. The footsteps are louder and getting quicker. I should not look round. I can picture in my head how the dinosaur will look. I don't need to see it. I should not look round.
Now I know somehow that it is just me out there, I don't have to save anyone else this time. I just have to get into the house and close all the doors and windows so that it can't get in. So that it can't get me.
I look behind me to see how close the race will be this time. I know I should not look round but every time I do, and every time I lose my margin of safety. It is a tyrannosaurus, tall and rusty. Its head is above the rooves of the houses. Its tail is lashing along the hedge on the bank across the road. It sees me then too. Its eye is a pukey yellow green, weird like a goats.
I can taste something in my mouth, it is a funny taste you get when you have been running hard. I am breathless. I am 5 houses away from home, then I am past Mrs Rivers house and at Mrs Taylors house. They are both teachers at the big school but I am too worried about getting home to be scared of them now.
The tyrannosaurus is very near; I can feel the thump and the vibration as he walks behind me. I can see in my mind the large yellow-white curved toenails ready to rip me up. Oh please oh please let me make it home! Boom boom.
I can see the garage door swinging down in front of me, to keep everyone in the house safe. I have to make it up the drive and under the gap before it closes. I run so fast, and I can feel the sting at my knees as I squeeze and roll underneath it, just in time as the tyrannosaurus swipes an arm at me. The nasty nails clack on the outside of the garage door. It is bolted shut from the inside and the dinosaur cannot get in that way.
But it is still not over as I have to run through the house to check that every door is closed, every window is closed, and every pair of curtains is drawn across the window. The tyrannosaurus has stopped outside the house and is searching for a way to get in. I run up the stairs, and jerk the curtains in my brothers bedroom closed. I saw it moving outside the window, and I run into my bedroom.
Time goes slower, I take hold of the left curtain and pull it across. I pull it at the bottom and it takes a while for the top to catch up so there is a diagonal edge. The monster could see through the gap. I pull until the top of the curtain reaches the stop in the middle of the window then run for the right curtain on the other side of the gap.
I have pulled it halfway closed when the monster catches up with me. Through the gap in the curtains the final horror is going to happen after all. The tyrannosaurus bends its head to the window, and I cannot escape. The booming noise is still there but faint, reminding me of my run here, blood pounding in my ears. It bends its head to the window, turns it parallel to me. The line of its teeth skim by, and now I can see its horrible eye.
IT IS LOOKING AT ME!
A recurring childhood nightmare; always the chase, the panic, will I make it back home safe? Always I did and when I had to look after other, we all made it inside to safety. Sometimes I even woke up before the tyrannosaurus could peer through the windows; sometimes all the curtains were closed and I could sense it prowling outside, looking for another way in. I felt the creeping horror when I realised there was an unbolted window and at the same time so did the monster, but always the worst thing that happened was that I was looked at. I realise this part does not sound very scary in retrospect but at the time this was terrifying.
10 January 2010
Last morning
When I wake up I am pinned down, my head is anchored to the pillow. Resistance at my scalp as the skin pulls as I try to move, twist my neck. Panic clutches me, like that waking dream where my body is frozen but I am alert, I can hear the footsteps coming towards me, coming closer, I know I am paralysed and cannot escape and still they come. Breathe, gulp air, how effortful it is to do this now when aware that the allotted amount is almost up; how have I breathed unnoticed all this time? Thoughts whirl and skirl, patterns in the air, a flock of seagulls, wishing I had a picture of you, I've been looking so long at these pictures of you...
The low rumbling I hear must have been going on for several seconds now and with this the terror recedes; it resolves itself into a purr as once again my cat has come into the room in the night and now squats heavily on my hair.
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