Yet another in our ongoing series of weird and wonderful sayings and misheard shenanigans – mostly because it’s a good excuse to play around with language and tease Lady M at the same time.
Today’s phrase came during a conversation over the Christmas break about how difficult it was to arrange time with someone ‘because of all the conditional shit in their life’.
On querying the sentence, this was revised to ‘consecutive shit’ and then ‘all these shit things happening for them one after another that is knocking them sideways.’ I may also have received a mock punch in the arm and been told off for having swallowed a thesaurus when I was young. (This must have been back in the Jurassic period, but I digress).
Odd though it sounds, I rather like this particular phrase. There’s a lot packed into it in terms of referencing changing conditions, or in someone’s availability being entirely uncertain depending on a virtual flow chart of conditions. It could also be used a bit more pejoratively to talk about someone placing a lot of conditions on the likelihood of their appearing, though that wasn’t the context for this particular conversation.
Like so many of these strange sayings, on reflection there seem to many appropriate levels to it, densely packed and only truly appreciated when excavated afterwards.
Bear with me, the switch in my head that allows me to be a positive soul has flipped and all the little self-loathing lies are dancing round again. Bloody marvellous; hello self-doubt and the certainty that I’m not only the worst person in the world, but that I don’t deserve happiness and you’re all about to realise how awful I am.
Well that’s just fantastic. I’m self-aware enough to realise that these phantasies are a load of nonsense, and to hate myself even more for giving in to the urge to shout out about them. I’m sure I’ll have a few supportive messages as a result of this post, but trust me I’ll be beating myself up for drawing attention to my own stupidities; certain that I’ve just cemented your opinions of me as someone just looking for attention.
This is the horrible thing about mental illness. This isn’t a broken rib, or a head cold. There’s no easy way to recognise that this too will pass in the same way that I can have a reasonable expectation of a cut healing. This moment of despair, exhaustion, and paralysis feels like it won’t end. I truly hate this.
Writing about it here does help. It lets me order my thoughts and review them rather than wade through the maelstrom of fear. It always feels like it risks becoming self-indulgent, but a) that’s the illness gnawing away again, b) I’m writing a personal blog, we’re a little late to worry about that, and c) it’s a useful tool for surviving and tracking where I am.
I’m going to stop and try to sleep now. I’m safe enough because I have people in my life who care about me, and I’m not going to hurt them by doing anything stupid, no matter how strongly the thought batters against the shutters. I have Ladies M and P, the Charleesi, my brothers (both biological and adopted), my gamers, and of course the #Tuesdays crew to remind me: I am not as alone, unlovable, stupid, or worthless as I feel.