When you covered half the house in towels to dye your hair
And the dye finds 10 uncovered square inches to drip onto and stain for ever
Why can I not just be clean and tidy? It’s not that difficult! Come on.
When you ram full force into the edge of a wooden bench adding to innumerable bruises on your legs
Why did I not see that? What’s the problem with me?
When you don’t know why it took you 1,5 hours to walk half a mile and what happened.
By the way: time–what’s all that about anyway?!
When you check your watch every two minutes on the way to an important meeting and arrive half an hour early.
This is just embarrassing.
When you just forget TICK to moisturize, check your emails, that apple in your bag, where your coffee cup has gone, what he just said, TICK oh and that sandwich in the bag, and that you put your dishes to soak in the staff kitchen…two days ago, TICK and now you are home in bed on a Friday evening, oh oh oh I meant to read this article, cut your nails, where that gum in your bag came from– it’s TICK soggy and the wrapper has dissolved, paint your nails but forget the second hand, to say good morning, to answer a question…
The most successful people have routines, and stick to them! Yeah. Sure. They don’t forget what they had decided to—oh bummer I was meant to call the dentist.
When you have various drinking utensils TICK spread across the house because you forgot you already had one; or you TICK need one for coffee, one for water, and a herbal tea would be nice, too … TICK oh and look there is Fentimans lemonade. We don’t have enough cups.
I love photos of tidy houses. I adore tidy houses. I feel like I am in a battle every single day. So far the war has not yet been won by me. It makes me feel inadequate.
When someone less assertive asks you for something TICK in the middle of a conversation and it does not reach TICK–oh my pencil is so nice and smooth, TICK look how the lines change depending on the pressure I use; it looks really grainy; can I make the grainy go away, and make the drawing smooth?
I literally do not hear it. It’s not even that I ignore it. It never reaches the spheres of consciousness. I am so ashamed. I do not want to ignore someone.
When you hear yourself talk obsessively TICK but you can’t stop. If I try to stop my head would explode. Seriously, like in Dogma when God speaks. I am still talking about something really important TICK work related, probably over-explaining some theories. And this is the best movie-ending ever! Meph. Love it. O.k. colleagues are taking notes and I think I am TICK done with talking through the 3D mindmap in my head so the physical pressure in my head and my tummy-pain are gone. Meph. TICK Seriously, so funny. Is this how to spell mep?
I wish I could stop. I try sitting on my hands. Taking notes in old scripts. Doodle. And I still will interrupt someone in the middle of their sentence.
You find yourself desperately digging for any recollection of the thing that less assertive person mentioned TICK in the middle of a conver…It’s so great that most of my colleagues, look straight at me and explicitly state what they want to know or to do. This clock is so damn loud.
By the way: ticking clocks in all offices? Have you ever heard of Chinese torture?
Yes. I actually took Alzheimer tests online because it is so bad. The memory. TICK doesn’t help.
The glass just slipped out of my hand, and yes the alphabet noodles on the kitchen floor look as if a dictionary committed suicide. I swear just yesterday that button was there, under this tab … I don’t know where it has gone. TICK
I should just set up cameras around the place for some good old slapstick.
10 White Noise
The white noise in my head so loud. Desperately trying to catch something that has a shape, a smell, a colour, a sound, a story, an emotion. Something, please something tangible. More input drowns in noise. My skin feels as if the epidermis is missing. It burns; there are too many smells, feelings, noises, faces, colours encroaching. I love semicolons; they stand for flow; there is never truly an end to a sentence.
So anxious. Painful. Scary.
Panic. Team away day. Means: a night spend running ptsd like flashbacks of faces, snippets of communication, bowling alley: do you want to kill me with sensory overload? Coming out of the underground in Time Square (NYC), breaking stuff in Rock Cafe shop into which you fled to have time to figure out which way is up, collapsing in ASDA finding yourself on the floor, your ears ringing, it’s all flashes of colour, smell, light, noise. The world began to wobble. My place within the noisy wobble became lost. The ground is reassuring.
Mindfulness. Gym. Knitting. Music. Writing. Drawing. Dancing. Singing. Just going out: up the mountains, into the hills, into the freezing sea, on the bike, on my feet. All that helps.