Obviously, no one really enjoys suffering, but I think I'm particularly crap at dealing with it. Some people deal with suffering by quietly putting their heads down and getting on with it. My dad was like that. I'm most definitely not.
And when I say "suffering", I don't just mean things like having chronic pain and fatigue - and I'm definitely not talking about real suffering, like having cancer or losing one of your children. I fall the hell apart when we have a power outtage for less than two hours. Or when I have to get up early, paired with the upheaval of our entire weekend routine to drag my family to the in-laws for a short visit. I don't like admitting it, but it's the truth. It's not that I'm unaware of how ridiculous my reactions and/or behavior are, it's just that in the moment I'm unable to access sanity.
A lot of people say they work better under stress. I crack, completely and almost immediately. If the stress also involves physical pain, or sleep deprivation I go bat-fuck ass-nuts over feet and get to shouting and tossing anything within reach. If it ever happened near a table, I'm sure I'd Jersey Housewife the thing while grunting nonsense words. Just the anticipation of a stressful situation sends me into an anxiety attack which produces nothing but the purest, pharmaceutical-grade rage available.
I'm sure someone will have a perfectly reasonable solution for this problem (such as, "calm down") which I'll put into use immediately. Thank god you were here to change my life for me.
2 comments:
I was trapped in your room for one of those episodes once.
I do believe it was one of the most frightening experiences of my life. I'm pretty sure you levitated for a short while because you were kicking with both legs at the same time at one point.
I remember that. That was a small room for two people when one of them was flipping shitty.
You were also ANNOYINGLY calm while telling me to calm down.
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