When I was younger, I would argue with my mum and shout at her, even though I knew I didn’t want to be shouting (I actually wanted a hug). I knew this because my chest would tighten and my throat would wane into what felt-like the airflow capacity of a pea. I would hold tears back and only let myself release them when I got behind the iron gate of my door, where I would slide down and be angry at myself for the very names I had just called her and the words I shouted I didn’t mean. But in that peaking climax of argument and tension I could never back out, you have to finish the fight! Say that thing you’re going to regret! How stupid you’ll look if you suddenly stop. That would be embarrassing.
Another more current example could be that I know being more organised and punctual would be genuinely beneficial to myself and relieve me of a lot of stress, but I refuse to put actionable things in place. When the thought of you should leave ten minutes earlier because it will make the journey much less stressful for yourself passes through my head, I register it and then cram it to the back of my head like an intrusive, creeping thought only meant for the dark solitude of the very back corners of my brain.
I am always running late. I leave after the time google maps tells me to, every time, even though I had been checking it constantly as I got ready, and was aware when I needed to leave- and now because I had already left it to the tightest margin of options, missing that transport route means I will be irrevocably late, not the five-to-ten minute late I had already anticipated for, but late-late. I am late to important appointments, occasions with friends, events I have planned, job interviews that mean so so much to me. The one thing I can control is what I do to encourage being on time, but it seems my brain rejects any possibility of helping itself as though being punctual and having self-discipline is akin to the betrayal of the very foundations of my body and soul. What is that about? People constantly ask me how can I always be so late, and why don’t I just leave earlier? - and I can’t answer. I’m constantly rushing, overwhelmed by I’m about to miss the flight, or the one bus that I've bought an extremely expensive last-minute ticket for because I forgot to buy it in-advance even though I was reminded a million times is non-exchangeable and I’m completely buggered if I miss it (which I usually do). I think to myself, if I had just listened to myself I could have avoided all of this and not now be in a black hole of self-loathing and self-pitying my uselessness.
