Knee Jerk Moments

In: Being in The Moment
Knee_Jerk_large

I was going to make this blog post about my health kick and , especially, my new juicing routine. I sat down to write it and then my laptop wouldn’t turn on. Instead of cursing at it and saying really mean and personal things to it about its general uselessness, I thought, “You know what, no. I’m being mindful and chill these days, so maybe I won’t go bat shit crazy at the laptop. Maybe that’s not a smart thing to do. ”

I walked away and held my head high. Then I tried it again ten minutes later.

Nothing.

I swear I heard my blood simmer. My nose might even have whistled. I can’t remember much; never do when the red mist descends.  I do remember looking at the laptop to tell it, actually tell it, to cop the fuck on; that I had stuff I wanted to do.

Nothing. A stoic non response. A blank screen. No explanation. No polite error message to reassure me. So fucking rude.

I decided to take a deep breath and distract myself with a book, all the time holding laser sharp peripheral focus on the laptop, as if to tell it that I was keeping my eye on it and to let it know that it was behaving like a right fucking bastard.

I tried again after 15 minutes.

Nothing.

Then I did what any thinking person would do  in that situation – I took to social media to whine. Why did I do that? No clue. Why do any one of us do that that?  I think it’s a research topic in its own right, but my guess is that the concluding hypothesis would be that some of us just need to not be on social media. I think I’m borderline. But the mere fact that I hold that awareness means I’m exempt from the category of people who ‘need to not be on social media’ because of my, well, self-awareness on the subject.

We’ll jog on from that hairy topic.

So after my banal and whingy post Gav came home and immediately clocked my thunder face. He dreads that face, like all men do.  I share my ordeal.

“Give it to me,” he says.

“Why? It’s not like I haven’t tried A MIILLION TIMES.”  My anger becoming infantile; tantrumy, even. I lose all credibility.

“Relax. Just give it to me,” he says.

So I hand it over. He turns it straight on. Like, straight on. No hesitating.

Then I did that face I do when I know I’ve behaved like a dickhead.

guilty face

Needless mini drams. Isn’t that what we do to take the pleasure of daily life away from ourselves? I do it more often than a person with self-care as a mission should. But acknowledging it defuses it, and that’s the difference between going to bed with a gripe and going to bed laughing at yourself. I personally prefer the latter.

I think it’s another perfect lesson for me: stop sweating the small stuff and don’t make anger your go-to response. Put those cray cray thoughts on ice and go and do something else. So many situations in my life would have turned out better if I’d lived by that simple instruction.

Oh well. Je ne regrette rien!

I’m beginning to learn that life uses the small little mishaps to teach us the biggest lessons. For me, today, yet again, it’s telling me; “Quit leaping into catastrophe. It’s not a winning first response. Actually, it’s not ever a winning response. Unless the world is ending.” Life finds the perfect teacher in the minutiae of everyday life. The minor things that drive us mad are where the gold is and where we can learn most about ourselves. Especially if we choose to notice it.

I think life, if it could talk like a human instead of through metaphor and farce,  would praise my efforts to be a better student of life. Then it would politely suggest that I stay back for after-school study. And, the way I’m feeling now, I’d probably say: “You know what, Miss (my best teachers have always been women) – I think you’re right. I’ll take that one on the chin and see it for what it is: a blatant assault on my ability to cope.”

I jest. I’d really just agree, smile like a fairy and probably forget I even signed up for after school study.

Life sure does need to be patient with students like me.

Tomorrow’s post is about the health kick I’ve been on, which won’t end on January 17th, contrary to all that gloomy tripe going around about how we’ll all have given up our New Year’s resolutions by then.

I won’t go on like a smug model who thinks she knows everything about healthy eating, mainly because I’m not a model who knows everything about healthy eating.

Watch this space…



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