I am, by nature, a pretty stressed out person. In fact, you could say that I am addicted to stress. Life in Brisbane has become immensely less stressful, but still has bursts of stress, caused by myself, and festivals I am still doing work for. As well as being addicted to stress, I am a notorious self sabotager. Notorious with who? Myself, I guess.
I tend to ball up lot of anxiety, and then deadlines loom, and they make me more anxious and then I don’t do the work I need to do for the deadlines because my chest gets so constricted and I can’t focus on what I’m meant to be doing at all. Then, one day, out of nowhere, I will wake up in the morning and feel like someone has run a vacuum cleaner through me and I’ll knock over all the work that I have been fretting and panicking over in an hour or two and then it is done.
Knowing that I do it every time and will keep doing it doesn’t help, for whatever reason, it generally makes it worse. I can see it coming towards me like a train and I know that it will run me over and there is nothing keeping me on the rails but none the less I stay on the rails and it runs me over.
Anyway, normally I use smoking heavily to deal with it, or use it as an excuse to smoke heavily. This morning when I found things becoming oppressive, but now I don’t smoke heavily, so instead I stand on the front deck, hoping from foot to foot with my tshirt balled up and shoved in my mouth loudly humming. That’s what everyone else does when they get stressed, right?
Either way, I’m still not smoking.