Hullo, all, welcome to Flashback Friday, where I
get lazy and don’t make up a new post recycle an oldie but a goodie, from before I was all “famous” and crap. Enjoy! Or not, whatevs.
From September 2011 . . .
“It was the White Rabbit, trotting slowly back again, and looking anxiously about as it went, as if it had lost something; and she heard it muttering to itself `The Duchess! The Duchess! Oh my dear paws! Oh my fur and whiskers! She’ll get me executed, as sure as ferrets are ferrets! Where CAN I have dropped them, I wonder?'”
- Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
I’m late for an important date. If only I could remember what it was. And where. Also what it was about. The poor white rabbit. If I can identify with anyone besides Alice, it would be this poor stressed-out type A rabbit.
Not only do I feel like I’m constantly running and not getting anywhere, I’m not sure where I want to be. I don’t really want to be around mad people, but the Cheshire Cat pointed out the obvious. Everyone’s mad. Everyone’s running around staring at their Iphones that have gone dead, realizing the terrible truth that every number they need to call is in their contact list. Which is on the phone.
This makes for an anxious society. No, scratch that. About half of us are anxious, and the other half are what I like to call carriers. Some carriers fly by the seat of their pants and enjoy it. Other carriers assume that someone else will do it for them, and enjoy it. And then there’s the realists, often termed pessimists. Guess which one I am? I am so often anxious, that NOT being anxious is a strange feeling for me. It doesn’t last long, as it is usually accomplished through a pill that knocks me out.
Which is why I need Caffeine, a stimulant found in Coke, a drink that can keep you awake and clean your toilet. It’s always nice to have things with multiple purposes. Which is why I have several pairs of shoes for each family member. This way, surely I can find one pair, right? So my youngest has worn snow boots in Summer. No one thinks this is unusual, given the child in question, so it works.
The White Rabbit is a great example for anxiety, ADHD, OCD, etc. Rabbits are always anxious, their little bodies panting, their hearts running a million miles an hour, even while still. They’re made that way because they happen to be prey for a lot of other creatures. Even pet rabbits have this constant fight or flight response, though there is no immediate threat. Save a toddler, in which case the rabbit is probably better off in the wild. They are ready to run at a moment’s notice, darting anywhere and everywhere. It’s no wonder they can’t keep up with their gloves. This is why, of course, rabbits these days don’t wear them.
I feel like a rabbit. Sometimes I can’t concentrate. While my body is often still (my eldest once fondly informed me that I was much like a Sloth) my mind runs 24/7. Thoughts go boing, boing, boing. I envy my husband, who, I swear, can sit and not think. At all. I’m not sure how he does this. Maybe his constant viewing of reality T.V. shows about fishing and garbage diving has contributed to this. Not that I can act too superior. I spend so much time on the computer, it’s a good thing there are pictures of my kids on it.
Do these electronic devices and the internet make us that way? I don’t think so, as I’m sure I’ve been much like this even when all we had was the Apple IIc (turn the disk over, new disk, please wait, turn the disk over, please wait, why don’t you go make you a sandwich?) Certainly I was before the Internet. I think it’s ingrained, which is why my eldest is panicked about a possible detention, and the youngest gets them so routinely that she thinks it’s a normal part of the school day. It’s how we’re wired.
But is it permanent? I hope not. I’m seeing a counselor, in hopes of rewiring myself, at least to the point that I can sometimes find my gloves, my glasses, my shoes, my keys. So that I’m exercising physically rather than in my head. I’ve already “run” myself to physical exhaustion. There’s no queen or duchess waiting to chop off my head. So maybe, just maybe, I can figure out how to relax. Oh look, here’s something that says eat me . . .