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13 June, 2014

Wednesday night it all started. I woke up at 0230 and was still awake come 0430. At first I rolled over. Then I gave up and scanned Twitter and Facebook. An hour after I first awoke I headed downstairs for some hot milk and to read my book in the hope sleep would arrive.

Finally it did but in the morning I was greeted with a daughter who was crying, looking like hell and feeling miserable. No encouraging, pushing or talking would convince her to either give school a go or to come and sit in my office where I could keep an eye on her.

So stress levels hit. I felt helpless and had work to do anyway. I got into work and went through some of the motions but ultimately I was doing a half-assed job and told hubby to bring me the car and I brought my work home for the day.

I’m not sure how much good I did being with her but it relieved some of my stress while still allowing me to get my work done and keep an eye on her. On my way home to her the car decided to have something go wrong with it to and I nursed it up the drive with no power steering and warning lights blinging on my dashboard.

The evening went smoothly. I reluctantly made dinner – soup – the only reluctance being on my part to eat it. Snuggled up on the couch with a rug, a kitten, a coffee and kids I got through watching Masterchef but bailed then and headed to bed early to catch up on my missed sleep.

This morning hubby’s ipad screamed into life as he turned on a video clip or something. Alarms shortly after took over and the shower went on downstairs. When it was hubby’s turn there commenced banging, screaming, yelling and my stress levels rose.

They shot up and I went downstairs to get my coffee made and shoo kids out the door. I was thinking so badly I forgot to brush my teeth, or grab my work case to bring into work as we left the house.

We were heading down the road about 4kms when I exclaimed and the car was turned around. I sunk my head into my hand and cried. I could feel the tension in my forehead. I glanced in the mirror to see if I was furrowing my brow into a crease.

I arrived into work promising myself I would blog to try and release the tension. I said I would do things that weren’t stressful and take my time doing it interspersed with lighter moments of Googling or suchlike for non-work related things.

I share an office and the “old man” next to me (he’s my age but listens to “old people’s radio”) had the ABC radio streaming on his computer. I listened to a woman, Debbie Kilroy, share about her life. She spoke about abuse at her parent’s hands (as interpreted by a 15 month old), a young teenage turned delinquent and into an adult criminal.

She now advocates for women in prison and there were glimpses as she cried remembering a friend murdered in prison of a soft woman (something I’ve somehow forgotten) and the rod of steel as she spoke out against the “system”. I wish I had half her passion.

The upshot of the interview was that I went out to find her book, Kilroy was here, from the library. It was in my local branch so I was off on a mission – another book to add to my “currently reading” pile.

As I walked into the fresh air my forehead began to pulse. I could feel the tension grow as my blood pressure must have gone up with the minor exertion. As I began the walk downhill to my coffee shop I just wanted to stop and sit whereas I usually keep going.

I placed my library books on the bench to reserve my spot and went to place my order when the guy in front of me sat down at the bench. The only upshot of my visit was listening to the music and falling in love with Kavinsky as it played in the ipod dock.

I returned to work thinking I should eat something but not really wanting to. My stress levels still high and I know I’m just bristling on the edge of losing my self control as I try and breathe, swallow a couple of Nurofen and enjoy my cooling coffee.

What would really help is a massage. But that’s not booked until next weekend.

Pip

{tags Debbie Kilroy, Sisters Inside, www.sistersinside.com.au, Kilroy was here, Kris Olsson, Kavinsky, Roadgame, stress, tension}

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