That was then, this is now

shark

Yesterday dawned so much brighter than the dark-ish day before.

Damn the emotional rollercoaster of middle-aged womanhood. I can’t wait until two pubescent daughters get added to the household mix.

At lunchtime, I felt almost deliriously happy as I brutalised my body in a gym class. I was literally grinning like a Cheshire cat … after an initial dirty look at the woman doing Pump in her bare feet. Pump should not be done in bare feet.

People doing Pump in bare feet make me want to stand on them. A bit like how people doing their supermarket shops in bare feet make me want to run over their toes with my trolley.

I do not approve. It’s just plain wrong. And a safety issue. (I’m a bit of a policeman of the world.)

Aside from those bare feet, yesterday was just peachy. I’m having such a nice life.

Well, yesterday it was a bit too busy with work and cooking dinner and going to the youngest’s year 5 information night, but generally goooooood.

DD was in a different time zone, so it was around gym class time that he woke up, read the blog and texted to note that it was a pretty bleak post.

“Ohhhh, I’m totally fine now,” I chirpily texted back.

Well, mainly fine. I really missing him. It’s hard to go back to normal life after spending two weeks together. Well, abnormal life, because he’s been in another country all week and has only been able to text me half as much as normal (50 rather than 100 times a day).

OK, maybe a slightly off fine.

I’m cheerful, but I’ve moved into the questioning phase of my cycle.* There are all these things I want to ask, but don’t really want to have answered. No, I do want to have them answered, but only if the answer is positive. For example, the only acceptable reply to “Do I text you too much?” is “No.”

But what’s the point of asking the question if you’re only going to be happy with one answer.

I don’t handle negative feedback too well, I’d be right back in the hormonal slump if the replies weren’t appropriately positive.

So, it’s best not to ask those questions circling around my brain like sharks, waiting to gobble my happiness up.

PMT is a rat-cunning beast, I’ll give her that.

 

Song of the day: The Who “Who are you?”

 

 

* I suspect the questioning this is collateral damage from insecurity in my marriage. I will never forget the moment, for example, when I asked my ex-husband if he was going to leave me, about nine months before he did. He hesitated for the longest moment before replying with a leaden: “No.” I went into la-la-la mode and blocked it all out. But the feeling of terror and uncertainty remained.

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2 thoughts on “That was then, this is now

  1. Do I annoy you commenting too much? Seriously I worry that if I read something is it to polite to comment if I like it or do I say nothing or what do I do so I end up commenting and then spending all my time worrying that you (or others I read) will think I’m a stalker and trying too hard!!

    • I like getting comments, Mummyhaze. Not many people comment on my blog compared to others and I worry it’s because I don’t make them feel comfortable enough to have their say. It’s lovely when followers take the time to let me know they’re out there.

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