Eating worms

I’m having a “nobody likes me, everybody hates me, I think I’ll go eat worms” kind of week (see below for full rhyme) This means I’m not just fat, I’m also paranoid and self-absorbed. (You’ll begin to recognise these hormonal phases, my six valued subscribers.) That’s very bad timing for an appointment with my psychologist because I appear waaay more unhinged than normal. “Not everything is about you,” she says when I’ve finished ranting about the friend who hasn’t returned my calls (ok, one call), because (obviously) she hates me. And the mum who hasn’t offered a reciprocal playdate. Hates me (and my child). And the former work colleague who’s cancelled lunch. Hates me – I’m so boring and suburban now. Or is it because I talk about myself too much? Then there’s the producer who didn’t gets back to me about my script. Hates it. The psychologist calmly assures me that I’m making decisions based on assumptions not facts. People have busy lives that they get caught up in. They’re not all sitting around contemplating their navels in front of a computer. I’m supposed to “unhook” from my anxiety and “practice mindfulness”. “Mindfulness” is focussing on your breathing or how your arm feels as it rests on your stomach or what noises you can hear in a room, instead of working yourself into a lather at midnight about whether you should turn Sprog 2’s bedroom into a walk-in wardrobe and ensuite. Not as easy as it sounds (both the “unhooking” and positioning the toilet cistern) when you have anxiety pumping through your veins instead of blood. I’ve even tried botox in my jaw to stop my constant teeth clenching (this was in addition to my vanity botoxing, but also kept secret from Husband … until now). It stopped the clenching – though thankfully not my ability to chew steak, a very rare side-effect I was assured – but I just got tension headaches instead. I’ve promised the psychologist I’ll try to be a “blue sky” and let the negative thoughts “float past like clouds”. But I’m not sure I have it in me. Luckily I’m going on holidays soon, so I used that as an excuse not to make another appointment. I think she bought it. Or maybe she was just relieved she wouldn’t have to listen to my whingeing anymore. Yeah, that’s it: she hates me too.

Nobody likes me. Everybody hates me. I think I’ll go eat worms. Fat ones, skinny ones, short ones, long ones, ones that squiggle and squirm. Bite their heads off, suck their guts out, throw their skins away-hey-hey. I like them so much, I eat them three times a day.    

TONIGHT’S MENU: Worms (just kidding). Spag bol pies (Sprogs, Husband), spag bol mince on grilled eggplant (me, sigh).

8 thoughts on “Eating worms

  1. My God did you just pull out my thoughts and write them down…….oh hang on, I don’t have a producer or a second sprog. I think this is called ‘being at home when you need to be out creating/producing’. Is this a Piscean thing???
    Hope your holiday offers some relief………………..
    x

  2. You poor thing. It’s just the lack of regular contact with human beings that is making you so anxious. I totally have those weeks. After 20 years of constant work and talking to people you are just going a little bonkers because you have 3 main people to talk to each day and they don’t really want to hear about your day, fears or stresses.
    Your shrink is right you do just have to be philosophical but the practical application of that takes time. I find making plans to meet people or ringing a good friend is helpful or an impromptu coffee date with school mum is always a good one for alleviating the loneliness.

    Was going to say (even before this blog) would you care to meet some other mum’s, when we catch up on Thurs, I usually meet up with them at that time (schedules willing). They are all very down to earth and at very stages of exhaustion and frustration with motherhood, etc, so it’s usually a laugh. We each have one toddler each, would that be weird for you?

  3. I reckon I could solve all ya probs in one afternoon at the pub. And a big LOL at eat worms. It got a run on our house last night. We usually all stand in the kitchen while Sharyn cooks tea, me have a couple of beers and all talk about the day and the worm song got a run. Usually lately its been taking in turns to see who can do the Shuffling the best. Must admit Im not to bad it.

    • My kids love the worms song too. And I was about to say, “ah, the pub, can’t remember the last time i went to the pub … ” then remembered the last time was last week and the reason I didn’t immediately recall it was that I got so smashed I had to be helped into bed by Husband and provided with a bucket …

  4. HA HA HA HA HA, priceless! Isn’t it amazing too, how many slightly different variations of the song there are? I do work but because I despise it soo much I can still relate to all of this. I agree with Steve, the pub is the best cure. Second to that though, call me once a week and whinge to your heart’s content (it’ll be just like being at work for me) and I’ll send you the bill for a couple of hundred bucks… I’ll be much nicer than your psychologist about giving you an account on the short weeks when you can’t pay and anytime you’re up in Newcastle I’ll use the procedes for a night out with you – see, benefits all round!
    On a side note, my 13yo came in to find out what I was laughing about and asked why gnomegoeshome was talking about worms… hmm, scary to think she’s in an advanced class.

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