Sick with worry

It’s a cliché, but it’s surprising how spot on clichés can be.

Yesterday evening, I suddenly felt I couldn’t cope with anything any more. The move, the cats, the play, money, going on holiday, nothing. I couldn’t stop the torrent of worries and worst-case scenarios. They literally made me feel sick.

The very thought of food sent my stomach into nauseous rebellion. I went to bed early, but found it impossible to relax – especially at home, because everything about my home has turned against me. I tried to read, but I couldn’t concentrate. I could feel my heart pounding away, the adrenalin gushing continuously into my blood stream. While I was reading the words on the page, half my brain was constantly buzzing away with worry. I felt hunted, like a hallucinating zebra that sees lions hiding under every cushion.

Eventually I got some sleep, even though I woke numerous times during the night and had nightmares about my neighbours turning abusive and aggressive.

Today things are back to normal. Life is largely miserable and stressful, but I guess I can probably cope after all. And if nothing else, all this worrying and lack of money is making me to lose weight.