Acute Stress Response

I’m sat hear listening to experimental, electronic, down-tempo alternative rock band Portishead, wearing headphones specifically purchased for their ability to block out ambient noise i.e. your stupid voice!

But as you slowly peer wide-eyed over my divider, wearing a maniacal smile like some kind of deranged mime artist, you force me to abandon my aural pleasure mid-lyric.

Not. In. The. Mood!

I take a deep breath and put on my best ‘how can I help you’ face. My heart pounds in anticipation of you saying something vaguely interesting…

Tupperware!

Tupperware? You invaded my fortress of solitude to discuss the cultural and historical impact of f#%king Tupperware?

My right eye begins to twitch. 

The ceaseless onslaught of shrill noise that erupts from your cavernous pie hole pierces my eardrums like an ice pick to the brain where it joins defensive cries of ‘shut up, shut up, SHUT UP you physically repulsive obnoxious harpy’.

A sideways glance towards another colleague finds him returning a look which clearly says ‘bet I stopped listening before you did’.

Red mist blinkers my vision and before I know it I’ve lunged wildly across the desk and wrapped my headphone cord around her neck. Around and around I go on this merry little maypole dance until her face turns a deeply satisfying shade of crimson.

The momentary silence is deafening.

As the life in her eyes fades my grim look of satisfaction does little to conceal the vast gratification I feel as her windpipe finally gives up the fight.

But it isn't long before that false, nasally, snorting laugh of hers reminds me that I’ve once again zoned out completely, and I come crashing back to reality with no recollection of the last 15 minutes.

I find myself nodding and smiling, but these actions aren’t made through any conscious effort: my motor and memory systems are working at maximum efficiency as autopilot fronts a seething desire to SMASH YOU IN THE FACE REPEATEDLY WITH A HOLE PUNCH!!!

Breathe. Just, breathe.

I return my ‘aggression earmuffs’ to their previous position, signalling my lack of interest and dialling down her tirade to a comfortable hum.

A wave of calm washes over me: like being wrapped in a warm blanket. 

She turns her attention to my colleague and realisation hits him like a closed-fisted punch to the temple.  He doesn’t have the footwork to manoeuvre: he’s alone, a single ship sailing towards a horrific storm on the sea of pointless confabulation.

Good luck and Godspeed brave soul.

Passing Blame - Controlling Anxiety

Perhaps it has something to do with seasonal change, a sudden rise or fall in barometric pressure, or the cycles of the moon.  But I just haven't been feeling myself recently!

The aspects of my psyche, like three squabbling adolescents, have been fighting for dominance on how my brain interprets the external world and here I am, sat on the sidelines, scared to break it up in case I get hurt.

Now, I don't regard myself as particularly brave, but by allowing fear - the opposite of bravery - to pollute my thoughts I feel as though I'm constantly running away from an unseen foe, one intent on stoking base insecurities and laughing mockingly in my face. This lack of control makes me anxious, and my anxiety frightens me.

We have a problem...

It's been a long time since I last felt like this, and as much as I'd like to focus the blame on my career, people, or some other overriding influence, I find the hands grasping tightly around my neck are my own!

I've been insecure about my own intellect and abilities, felt jealous, become angry at the most insignificant thing and found myself once again swimming in the waters of nihilistic self-reflection.  Only I don't know how to swim.  And I've left my float on the side of the pool...

What's the point?  Really?! 

• Deep Breathing 
• Progressive Muscle Relaxation
• Yoga 

Hmm, I'll stick to arguing with myself out loud, writing an on-line diary, drinking copious amounts of red wine and throwing myself aggressively down hillsides on my awesome mountain bike thank you very much.

Maybe I just need to get away?

Thankfully my better half now has a government-issued document that certifies his identity and nationality for the purpose of international travel, and we are currently making plans for our first trip away together.

Bruges - I can almost taste the beer as I step out into the night and breathe in the cold winter air.

What is Love?

Now, usually my answer to this question would be 'baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more'...

But not today!

Recent conversation has made me question the meaning of love and the causal use of the word itself: I love my friends, but I also love cheese... Hmmm... But would I sacrifice cheese for my friends?  Or a friend for a decent cheeseboard?

Maybe.

To me, loving someone means putting them first, to hand them the power to destroy you and trusting that they won't, to feel your world would be a far emptier place for not having them in it and to stand by them through good times and bad.

I would never tell someone I loved them unless it was absolute, and outside of family and my closest friends I've only ever put love into words for one partner - in fact, I tell them so often that I sometimes feel in doing so it may dilute it's meaning, or that somehow the meaning may be misinterpreted as insecurity: a way of trapping them or forcing them to say it back before being ready to do so.

All I know is that there are people in my life that I can't imagine being without, who make me who I am and push me to great heights.  I need these people, and I believe that to be the better word to use.

If you are lucky enough to have people like this in your life, cherish them, they need you too.