Chucking a slater

When I was younger, I was a lot braver. I didn’t have a ridiculous (completely justified and normal) fear of bugs or flying things or crawly things (except for spiders – I’ve always run screaming from those 8 legged freaks). I thought nothing of it to pick up a slimy snail or try and catch some tiny flying creature. 

I was always mesmerised by the little slater bugs. Those tiny grey ones with their little armour and two little inquisitive feelers. I’d watch them for ages, wondering child-like thoughts about where they were off to and how they spent their days. I especially loved watching them curl up into a perfect ball. There they were protected, almost impenetrable, saved by their own shell. When shit got real they just thought “bugger this” and hid until it was safe to reappear.

I kinda did that over the last week or so. It’s a bit of a habit of mine. Sometimes, too many things are piled too high and it’s all gets a little overwhelming. I know when I’m reaching that point too. I feel heavy. Not in the ‘I ate too many donuts’ kind of way. More in the sense that there’s a massive weight on me, on my shoulders, on my chest and for the life of me, I can’t shake it off (damn you Taylor Swift).

This past few weeks have been a mass of ups and downs. My biggest baby had to get his eye brow glued closed, a couple of weeks later he had to get his lip stitched, then he turned 6; I found out my littlest has a wheat allergy, I quit my job, had mediation with the ex husband, had to try and deal with the ex husband, got a few doses of the “I-hate-you’s” from my biggest baby, had my birthday, my car has been a complete biatch and thinks I have a secret stash of endless cash to throw her way, I remembered some super overdue bills, got all warm and fuzzy at the antics of some of my beautiful friends, got to see my wonderful brother after he flew up for the weekend (seeing him today for lunch too!), and this morning realised I have an inspection in a couple of days and my house looks like it’s been lived in by squatters then ransacked….a lot.

I have plenty of amazing friends and family to talk to whenever I need but sometimes, I just need to deal with my own things on my own, in my own way.

It’s about that time when I just “chuck a slater” and curl up in a little ball until it’s safe to come out. I continue with the mum stuff and my other day-to-day crappola, but then I come home and sit in the quiet. I don’t talk. I don’t socialise. If anyone asks, “I’m fine” is my response. I block most of the outside out. I fill the time with anything that will dull the noise and the swirling thoughts and imaginary conversations in my head. I’ll watch movies that require no thinking. I’ll go for a drive to nowhere in particular. I’ll sit by the ocean get my salty sea air fix. I’ll throw in my headphones, switch on my “Chill Out” playlist and turn the volume up to whatever it takes to dull everything else out.

I tend to replay things in my mind, go over and over conversations, think of the things I should have said or could have done, imagine scenarios, worry and procrastinate and preempt. And it’s so bloody loud. The headphones are my hero. I may go deaf at an earlier age but they really do help.

Eventually, for no reason in particular, it all starts to feel less noisy. I slowly uncurl myself and venture out. Just like those teeny tiny slaters.

So I’m here. I’m sorry for hiding but it needed to be done. But I’m back.

K xx

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