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the melodramatic self-pity post

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I was simply enjoying a car journey home from the garden centre one day last week when – with no provocation – some great big freaky freakoid leapt out at me and caused the weirdest sensations.  In my head I’ve been likening it to a mini anxiety attack, but on reflection it appears I’ve been suffering from these without realising for howevermanyyears anyway; stress-related IBS, blushing, tongue-tiedness, palpatations, festering warmth and that humongous debilitating knot of worrisomeness that lives in my chest as my constant companion.

The further I get from the actual experience the more ridiculous it seems, but it was truly frightening, if only for a couple of minutes.

It began with a WHOA!

Became a YOU’RE GOING TO BE 40 THIS YEAR!

And hasn’t really ended.

I don’t feel old. But I am old. And I suddenly realised that my life as passed me by, and the older I get the more blurred it becomes.

I haven’t really achieved anything with my life. I haven’t had a baby (SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! STUPID MOTHER OF MY BLOKEY!) and I may have a mortgage but we only have one toilet (I know, I’m ridiculous *rolling of eyes*).

Yes, society makes me think that I’m a failure. All of a sudden my head has decided that I haven’t conformed to society’s wishes. Facebook screams of the jubilation of babies and children and I just want to bang my head against a brick wall.

“My toddler had a poo today!”

Well, no shit.

I suppose the best way I can describe my experience in the car was one of deep sadness. And I don’t just mean deep.  I mean DEEP.  And for the briefest of moments I actually thought, I don’t want to turn 40; I don’t have to turn 40. It was such a peaceful thought … and it’s that peacefulness that scared the crap out of me.

I know that I’m blessed. I have an adoring Blokey, two beautiful cats, a couple of crazy neighbours to keep me occupied, a job I love, I know some brilliant people and have an amazing family. We own our own house (with help from the bank) and our own car. We have savings that amount to more than I earn in a year and I can afford to buy pretty things.

But I feel that my life is spiraling out of control. I need control. I crave it. And yet I have none right now, and I’m teetering on the edge of my world with a sense that I’d be quite happy to fall off the edge …

(I don’t want sympathy … I want a kick up the arse, with thanks in anticipation …)

2 Comments

  1. Sounds like a panic attack to me – at least that’s how I would describe the ones I’ve had.

    So… You’re old, huh? Seriously?!? I’m 10 years your senior. Try staring 50 in the eyes, lady! 40 isn’t old – nor is 50! My mother is 91 and will, hopefully, turn 92 in July. THAT’S old! Get a grip!! *glares* ( <–is this what you had in mind?)

    Take a deep breath. It's not the end of the world! I've been having relatively mild panic attacks myself lately. They sound similar to yours. (and I'm sure this fact doesn't help you feel better at all but I'm going to pretend it does)

    I daydream about taking off and building a tiny house on a flat bed and purchasing a truck to tow it. I imagine traveling across country with my house in tow until I find somewhere I want to settle down. I have not, in my imaginations, figured out how I would finance this travelling, by the way. No, it's not practical but I like the idea. I would probably hate the entire thing after 2 weeks, in reality, but that has nothing to do with my daydreams. I'm sure I'll get over this in a while.

    Hopefully you will, as well.

  2. Katiefinger

    January 31, 2014 at 2:25 pm

    Yep, I will. And I did want sympathy. I lied. I’m terrible. I know how to offer *huggles* to folk but I don’t know how to say, ‘hey, look at me … I need a *huggle* too!’ so instead I pretend I just need a kick up the backside because I don’t want to appear needy even though I am. I really am.

    *sad smile*

    (But thanks! And I like the daydream driving around with your house until you find the ideal spot to settle in!)

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