Monday, September 12, 2016

Literally cried at spilled milk

Milk was being poured and it went everywhere including on the Apple TV remote; "JESUS FUCK" I bellowed in frustration.

theboy was the one pouring. I didn't mean to yell, and not at him, but he got upset and then I got upset because I'd made him upset. 

It triggered an anxiety event. I ended up in the shed with classical music coming through headphones as my body and brain went through the normal reaction of juddering, angry, crying. I knew that I would be okay but there were a couple of moments of acute hysteria where I babbled incoherently and with great upset.

I eventually got back to a calm point, left the shed and went and played spadebomb with theboy, a game involving bashing a red rubber ball around the yard with a spade. He made me "shake it off"—where we literally shake our heads after crying to make the sads go away—and we got stuck into it.

I always get back to an even keel after a wobble but I hate that I yelled and I loathe that my injury imprinted once more. I hate the fatigue that follows a cook off where you just want to curl into a ball and sleep it away.

The injury; it's the elephant in the fucking room. 

But one day, in the future, it won't be there.


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