A Chink In Your Armour

It’s Monday evening and you are on the bus home. You’ve had a good time at work, you’ve laughed with your friends, dealt competently with your job and have walked to the bus stop in glorious, about-time-July’s-nearly-over-sunshine.

You have a post written (it’s not that good, forget about that part) and are going to transfer it from Word onto your blog as soon as you get home.

It’s been a good day.

Then something, just one thing, one tiny insignificant moment of your day creeps under the tent of your content like a wasp under the tent of, well, a camper. It stings.

The tiny incident – a look, a word, even a silence, becomes less tiny. It becomes a slight, or a threat, a problem. You are now in trouble.

You invent scenarios that will never happen, could never happen. In your head you carry on full conversations in which you are angered, or disappointed, or just plain hurt. Or you provoke these in the other person.

You know this is all rubbish. You try to think positively, to use common sense, you tell yourself to stop being a horrendous gobshite, but it’s too late. A black cloud now covers the sunshine of the real world.

It’s no longer a good day.

You reach home. You don’t bother with the blog-post, you don’t bother with your dinner, you go to bed. It is six-thirty in the evening.

It’s Tuesday evening now, and I am on the bus home. Today there was no slight, threat or problem. There was no rabidly offensive conversation. There was another day like Monday was, remarkably unremarkable.

You, my friends who come here, sometimes wonder at my imagination. It does indeed take me to the most amazing, fun-filled places, and I wouldn’t give it up for the world.

But sometimes it’s a real pain in the arse.

13 thoughts on “A Chink In Your Armour

  1. Jo


    In fairness, Pseu, sometimes it does feel a bit mad. If you’re Ruby Wax, you deal with things confrontationally. I think, to give her the benefit of the doubt, there’s probably a certain method to the madness.

  2. vivinfrance

    Oh dear. Sorry about the black cloud spoiling everything. I bet the early night did you good, though and that normal (fun) service will be resumed as soon as possible. (You’re much to young to remember that announcement which would appear on the screen at the slightest broadcasting hiccup)

  3. laughykate

    You have full conversations in your head as well, Tinman? Sometimes I’d like to tell those carrying out those conversations in my head if they would kindly just Shut.The.Front.Door.

  4. A Frend

    Mostly I’m not a fan of CBT (cognitive behaviour therapy), but this does sound like a good case for some selective application of it. Hope you’re feeling better by now.

  5. johnell74

    I used to have the same thing happen. I would go to bed at night and the black dog would strike at about 2am. What a way to lose sleep.
    Thank you for your visit to my site, Tinman. I appreciate the compliment.

  6. wisewebwoman

    That old BD is a bit of gypsy, he does get around. I play host – more infrequently than I used to but still.
    You have my sympathy. Do not feed the bugger. He’ll skulk off.


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