So, I’ve hurt my neck. I’m trying to be all professional nurse and use fancy medical words like ‘scapula’ and ‘analgesia’ and ‘sternocleidomastoid’ but it’s more general pointing at the hurty neck bit with a lot of ‘holy hell someone shoot me now I can’t take any more of this pain just end it, end it all.’
It all started with a bad pillow, and washing my hair like some sort of 1990s peasant with a handheld showerhead over a luxury Jacuzzi tub (get it together Sentido – people don’t want BATHS on a holiday where all the signage states that the island is facing a drought and not to have a bath at any cost I don’t need that level of guilt when assessing my personal hygiene options thank you very much), coupled with some in-sleep jerking during one of my sleepless nights and/or Trump-based nightmares.
I feel a little bit responsible for his becoming president. I’ve had many, many dreams – mostly horrifyingly sexual in nature – about the orange one from about 2005.
It’s horrendous. The dreams, yes, but also the pain.
David has been plying me with Pringles and Skittles in an effort to appease
the beast me and it’s just not working. Nothing is taking the pain away. No position is comfortable.
He’s been asking me to check myself before I wreck myself, but I think we’re beyond wreckage here. We’re at Independence Day level annihilation. I Am Legend destruction. Walking Dead obliteration. Without hot people. There are no people. In fact, I’m the zombie in this scenario.
There’s nothing left to wreck, at this stage. He’s literally just read this post, asked if I’ve gone insane, backed away slowly and screamed ‘MY SCOOPS!’ at the kitten who’d just sashayed into the bedroom, probably wondering where her Dreamies are (she’s all about the treats the fat slob). I blame the pain.
Turns out the neck is actually quite a vital part of the body.
I’ve also been trying to get on a full-on positivity kick. Now, I’m quite a scathing person. I love sarcasm. I grew up with a clutter of uncles whose main aim was to embarrass me and my sister at any costs. Any. Costs.
I learnt pretty early on that showing weakness such as crying, bribery, or frantic begging them to please stop just stop, doesn’t work. In fact, reacting in any other way than an equally scathing retort actually revealed the source of your weakness and usually resulted in more teasing and tomfoolery.
Ain’t so fun when they’re asking you in front of your grandparents to describe whether the ginger-haired boy you kick around with at school is your boyfriend because we really don’t need another set of gingers in the family thank you very much.
So, basically, being sarcastic has been inbuilt from birth. Finding the negative in any situation is second-nature. Or first-nature. Just nature at this point.
But, the brain can be rewired, see. It learns. Connections can be unplugged and reformed. Yes yes, we all know the addage it’s never too late to teach an old dog new tricks is baloney, so this bitch is giving it a go.
I’ve been trying to see the good in all people for a start. People like Gary* on holiday, who insisted on wearing a full set of football scrubs? kit? uniform? to every meal, and moaned that the food being served on this Greek Island was far too Greek for his tastes. People like Kaeyhtiee* who loudly announced to her boyfriend, eyes darting around to ensure people were watching her, that PEOPLE recognised her and that once she took off her sunglasses they’d KNOW WHO SHE WAS!!1!1!. People online like Emeline* who ‘find themselves’ after spending a fortune on travelling, who berate other people who don’t travel because they’ve found themselves so hard right now which clearly means you haven’t found yourself and therefore are stupid but who also have a Donate button on their blog slash online bullet journal because they aren’t quite done finding themselves yet.
Mate, it’s tough. You know how many twitter drafts – replies to general whiny, passive aggressive, ‘could this BE any more of a first world issue?’ tweets – I’ve had to delete? Too many.
But, generally, the positivity kick has been going ok. I feel like the negativity pool I would usually dip right into is slowly drying up in the heat of the positivity sun and resulting positivity famine, with all the wild negative thought animals that would drink from its negative waters dehydrated, dead, and rotting away to positivity dust. Positivity buzzards hover above, waiting to pick away the last of the negative meat, after the positivity hyenas have devoured the negativity carcass. Slightly macabre there but you get the gist.
The neck, though, has scuppered this plan. Turns out being in constant pain for a week causes the negativity clouds to block the positivity sun (I’m stopping this metaphor now) and I revert back to my previous form. As that’s the case, I’ve been plying myself with a steady stream of kittens, ducklings, golden retriever puppy photos. It’s working, slightly.
My neck still hurts though.
*Not real names, but best guesses
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