New Mechanisms

The past few years have been, well shitty, for many of us. One way or another the pandemic has affected our lives, added another layer of stress to what, for many, was already too much.

I definitely have felt like more than one layer has been laid upon my life. Getting older comes with a few built in challenges for ourselves physically and mentally, plus from our families who are also getting older and experiencing similar challenges.

As you grow up you realise your parents won’t be around forever, but you hope it won’t impact your life too much. It does, no matter when it happens, but especially when you aren’t ready for it.

Happening during a stressful time in the world doesn’t help.

Happening when you have an extra stressful job half the year doesn’t help either.

Yet, some things have a habit of happening when you are least prepared for them.

I’ve said I vent here, to my (ever patient) friends, to my physical health practitioners. Well tomorrow I’m adding mental health practitioner.

Perhaps it is more accurate to say that I’m going to SEE if that is something that could help me deal with my stress/grief/anxiety.

I have never spoken with a mental health practitioner (counsellor/psychologist/etc) as far as I recall (my brain has a habit of archiving it’s harddrive, I’m the worst at remembering my own past).

Tomorrow I will try to discuss my life with a stranger – this could be interesting. If nothing else maybe tomorrow I’ll have something to write about – or are you not supposed to do that? Guess I will find out.


I woke up this morning, after a night of mostly restful sleep which is rare for me, and thought I would attempt an awkward conversation.

I brought breakfast. I was calm. I had rehearsed want I wanted to say.

Then my plans immediately got derailed. Which in turn had me becoming more and more hesitant to broach the subject. I attempted to get them back on track though, slowly.

In the end I got to say some of the things I wanted to but I could tell it wasn’t going to be accomplished in whole because the person had retreated and put up their walls.

Oh well, at least I tried and maybe some of the important parts will simmer in their brain and work some magic. Plus there’s always next time…as exhausting as that sounds.


I have been thinking about how people react to situations lately. Questioning why they decide to take a certain point of view or make a specific choice.

Humans seem to inevitably assume we are correct in our position and decisions. We are also a naturally stubborn species.

Yes, of course there are those who manage to rise above the fray and give those of us who care something to aspire towards, but for the most part we all act the same. With different ethics or morals in play. Different history creating different decision matrices in our brains.

I know this, yet I still become apoplectic when dealing with some people and their inability to listen or behave in a manner I feel best. I’m not saying I’m always right but…sometimes I am.

Experience teaches us all and when people specifically ignore your experience in a certain arena it is disappointing and in some circumstances potentially ill-advised.

The proverbial they, say that we only get truly angry when our core beliefs are threatened. My core beliefs are very practical, logical and scientifically based but my reactions to a perceived threat are almost visceral.

Yes, I can rant with the best of them. Incoherently scream until I’m blue in the face knowing it will get me nowhere because changing other people’s minds is difficult or sometimes impossible.

My reactions at these times, ranting to those close to me about other people’s poor choices, is always interesting to me. I lose an ability to calm myself, eventually I will, once I’ve vented my frustrations. As soon as I am done though I always wonder why I can’t stay calm. I have that ability in my professional life. People can say the most inane things to me as clients and I will nod and smile to them. Sure, as soon as they leave I am ranting to my coworkers, but that client thinks I am a beacon of professional grace.

So why can’t I react the same way in non-client interactions?

Family ones for instance. Sure you’ll probably say, ‘Well, family is different’. Okay, I suppose I care less about what they think of me and perhaps I think it is more important for them to benefit from my experience. Still it is the place where I could most benefit from that calm professionalism and I know this. So why does my brain go all prehistoric rage monster when I need it to be an enlightened calm monk?

We are such a complicated species and the last few years have definitely shown us the best and worst we are all capable of.

I think perhaps we all need to work on using our professional demeanor more in order to temper our reactions. One day I’ll find my inner calm for all situations, I’m working on it but it takes time and more patience than I currently have in reserve.

PS: I still don’t get why people make irrational, illogical choices but at least ranting…er…writing about it here makes me feel a little better.


Me: *Chilling with Lucy

Brother: I’ll pick her up in the morning

Me: You know morning is early right?

Brother: Yes….

Brother: What time?

Me: 8.

Brother: 🤮

Brother: I’ll come get her in 20 minutes.

Me: Figured. Lol

Our family is really not big on mornings. If I didn’t have to work I would definitely not get out of bed until at least 10am. Lol


That I have to clean: mistaking puppy fur for an icky large spider

That I need a coffee: when basic math is eluding me while

That I need a haircut: I have to/can put my hair in a ponytail

That I need to go to the grocery store: nothing – I hate going to the grocery store – thank the interwebs for delivery!

That I need a break: everything has me on the verge of screaming and running away like a mad person to hide in a cave for eternity

Categorized as Year 43 Tagged

Little Things 2

Even though my job can be very stressful I’m grateful to have an awesome boss who always puts his employees first and strives to create an environment we are happy to work in.

The top of our office philosophy is ‘Family First’, meaning never worry about missing work to deal with family emergencies or even non-emergencies.

He’s incredibly generous and may have eternal patience because being the only man in an office full of opinionated, often loud women can be a bit much at times but he puts up with our antics, never failing to let us know we’re appreciated.

I’ve spent a lot of time working for people who, while not intentionally bad bosses, had management styles that left much to be desired.

It is a relief to know that when the stress in the rest of my life is out of control, my employment isn’t something I have to worry about (I do, but that is because I’m a natural worrier 🤷‍♀️). I find financial security and an enjoyable work environment a stress reliever, if you don’t have that, it may be time to re-evaluate.

A Long Time Ago…

That sounds like the opening to a novel. This is not a novel, but one has to start a story in some manner, so why not.

A long time ago, I used to be able to write whenever I put my fingers on the keyboard or a writing utensil to paper. It was a feeling like the words wanted to be created. Not that those words together necessarily formed anything that was worth reading, but they existed and that felt like an accomplishment.

When I say a long time ago, I don’t know exactly how long, decades maybe, but time seems to become less rigidly calculable the older I get. I will think of an event and realize that it happened much more recently or distant than I thought. So long ago feels like decades, but may have been only years.

Either way that habit of writing that felt so natural has become more of an effort. I’m sure I can think of numerous reasons that I find myself at a loss for words. Exhaustion from work/life. Lack of interesting things to say because of a lack of time or energy to experience new things to discuss. Maybe our brains just become less skilled at certain things over time, other mundane thoughts and tasks taking over the space where those words once flowed.

Repetition becomes a habit. We tell the same stories over and over (am I doing that now?), instead of creating new ones; everything by rote. A little bit like how our lives tend to take on routines: wake up; go to work; eat some food; go to sleep; repeat.

For the majority of us, we don’t seem to break out of these routines often. Lives based on specific needs create scenarios to fulfil those needs. We have to work to earn money to have a life, so we do, perhaps to the detriment of said life. It is a fine balance and that repetition prevents us from falling too far from our comfortable little bubbles. Never leaving our little bubbles though means less input for new stories.

A long time ago I was young and learning all the things, now I am older, still learning but the lessons aren’t always as impactful and generally not as interesting to try to relay. These days I open this blog, desperately wanting to feel that natural flow of words, but I stare at the page and spend too much time wondering if anyone else will care about my words (sometimes I wonder if I am even making sense when I do write).

This is where I am, comfortable in my bubble, but lacking new experiences to describe to you or perhaps lacking the will to impart some of those recent experiences.

I don’t wish to be in the past, that time is gone, those lessons learned (or not), but I do wish my mind could revert back to that state of expression. Maybe it is something that can be achieved through habit, can you relearn natural expression or am I writing on repeat?


She looks all cute, but as soon as I want to go to sleep she turns from Lucy into Lucifer, then starts tearing around the house annoyed when I don’t let her outside at 10:30pm to play with the neighbourhood nocturnal animals. 🤦‍♀️