I know. It’s been months. Trust me, I think about this everyday. I have blogger guilt, which is less serious than Catholic guilt, but slightly more serious than, say retail guilt. (Or is that called retail remorse? I don’t know, I’ve never really had either).
I think the last update I did was to say that I was drowning in stress and that I’d catch you on the flip side. But then the flip side took a little too long to flip and ended up like the bastard first pancake that sticks to half the pan, is burnt on the outside, all goopy in the middle, and tastes like shit.
That’s actually a surprisingly accurate metaphor. The silver lining of this though is that the next round of pancakes taste fucking great, because that first pancake paved the way.
*Oh yes, she’s really going somewhere with this….
So, to fill you in a little, pretty much, I went through some things lately. Some work things and some life things. Big things, bold things, and brave things. Lets just say there was metaphorical flour and baking powder all over the place.
I can’t really say much more than that, mostly because work stories are just so dull, and unless you are in the midst of it, it’s really just another yawn fest of listening to someone’s drama without moving pictures (although the moving pictures were mostly just me rocking in a corner, possibly holding a
bottle glass of wine) (kidding). (or am I?)
To clarify, work is now fantastic and life is awesome.
There is stress in this line of work, but (for now, touch wood) it’s what psychologists call eustress. (I’m so happy that I still remember the words) Eustress is the good kind of stress. The kind that makes you get up and go. Get shit done. Be a boss all over the place. Make the decisions, say “fuck yes I’ll go to Thailand for a raw vegan detox retreat and some fabulous PR and networking”. (Whilst hoping with all hope that you can smuggle in meat,
cigarettes and booze)…. I may have missed the point of the trip…. And I digress.
The kind of stress I was feeling a few months back was not eustress. It was EWstress. (ok, it’s not quality writing tonight guys but at least I’m writing, right?)
The body starts to do weird things when you get that stressed. I’d be talking to someone and just suddenly go blank. There was weight gain. And drinking, and heart palpitations, oh, and chest pain for a while, which was the worst. Nothing says “oh hey, you’re a pretty stressed out 35 year old” like a bit of chest pain while you are sitting at the lights. Sometimes I even looked down to find a cigarette had magically found it’s way between my fingers. It was like staring at an old friend who had managed to weasel their way back into your life with the promise of better friendship, and less backstabbing, only to then turn around and tell you your arse looks fat and they pashed your boyfriend when you were at the dentist.
Ok, it wasn’t exactly like that.
I remember after the Feb earthquake in Christchurch people were absolutely wrecked. I was no exception, and drove around in a state of shock for days. I soon realised however, I didn’t have it as bad as the guy who I watched drive off from the gas station with the petrol pump still attached to his car.
I’m guessing he wasn’t having a good time.
So that’s my blog post about stress. And me. And what I’ve been up to, which I haven’t really even told you. But it’s good stuff, it really is.
So all this is to say, I didn’t delete the blog. I will have better material soon, in large part because I am interviewing gyms. To, you know, join up. (If I say it out loud I will have to actually do it).
Because the combination of the shit kind of stress, the bullshit that is winter, a lot of bad food choices, and an addiction to Sex and the City have all contributed to my jeans no longer fitting as nicely. Which is not ok. Because I had a great arse once upon a time..
Don’t pretend you don’t know.
Here’s to the 2nd, 3rd and 4th pancake. May they always be soft and covered in maple syrup. And may you have the patience to bear with me as I type these terrible metaphors.