Not feeling too good at the moment. Sleep is a shattered mess with lots of staring at midnight ceilings, head buzzing and I’m noticing the little ‘tells’ that let me know I need to reduce my stress levels. Like now. A nervous tremor here, a tendency to spook easily, and a sense I’m flooded with adrenalin. I know my blood pressure is through the roof without even having to check and there’s bugger all I can do about much of it.
This is very unhealthy. I’m also getting angry far too easily, which can be less than healthy for those around me. My head readily fills with dark fantasies of mayhem. This is bad because I, despite advancing years, am still physically strong and have a good deal of knowledge about the human body (amongst other things) and might, although this is a very remote might, under pressure may end up doing something that I will certainly regret and other people may not have the subsequent luxury of doing so.
I’m not quite at the point where I can’t be trusted with sharp objects, but I can see where that point is and it’s too damn close for my liking. I need to do something about this, soonish.
Regrettably, all the things I usually do to reduce stress, like socialising, long distance travel, and weekends away, are now officially Verboten. I’m sure it’s the same for a lot of other people. Writing about what stresses me out helps a little, but there’s too much negative energy pushing from the wrong direction. Changing continents is stressful enough, like selling a house in the UK. It’s the uncertainty that chews at you. Will things turn up on time or are they stuck somewhere? I’m trying to be patient, but that patience is wearing wafer thin.
The echoes of an empty house don’t help. Our worldly goods were supposed to dock a week ago and we’ve heard absolutely nothing from the movers. Deliveries are getting later and later and the restrictions mean that doing anything takes five times as long as they should. Which also mean I can’t get on with things. I’m left sitting on my hands writing angry blog posts. Many of which never see the light of day. A number of which should be buried at a midnight crossroads after being digitally burned and boiled in acid.
What bothers me is the sense that we’re being tortured here. By the very institutions meant to protect us. And for no good reason. We’re in a hot mess caused by bad computer models, a fear-stoking media and clueless politicians. I’d spit in their eyes if I came across any of them. All of them. I never thought I’d hate anybody this much, because in real life I’m normally such an affable easy going sort, but here we are.
All this misery and stress comes from one source; officialdom. Bone headed, boorish, control-freak officialdom that has not an ounce of good faith or friendliness. An officialdom that cannot admit it’s got things catastrophically wrong. An officialdom whose first instincts are to repress. To leave uncaring misery in it’s wake. An officialdom insulated from the pain it inflicts upon others. Perhaps if officialdom learned a little about the pain it inflicts it might have the sense to back off a little. Unfortunately I don’t think that’s going to happen.
Christmas is going to be cancelled. Our Christmas is and I know exactly where the blame lies. This will not be forgotten or forgiven.