Personal Hugging Intervention

I’ve got lots of catching up to do with everyone and comments, so pardon me zooming around and popping up around and about – I seldom do things linearly. I’ve had a most peculiar couple of weeks. Peculiar indeed. Amazingly enough I’m still in one piece, and have high hopes that I’ll carry on hanging around in said piece for a while longer. That whole arm in window thing knocked me totally off my game, and I ended up making myself sick as I always do when I get overloads of stress, which then ended up making me hugely cross – with myself at such blatant weakness. This led to all sorts of pretty rude internal dialogue, which finally led to a revelation. I don’t actually have to be superwoman, so I’m not going to try.

The last person you should be cross with is yourself. If you melt into a little puddle rather than always having to be able to withstand any old thing at all that life throws you, then you should be giving yourself hugs instead. Now I’ve been engaging in a selfly huggathon. Lots of hugs for me. I might even buy myself a really cool present too. I think that I’m better now than I was before though – which was a bit wound up like a guitar string – much more mellow, and wondering if that arm was some sort of universal intervention. So pardon my latest absence. It probably won’t be the last, but I have a fairly good idea that if there is another it won’t be for a long time. From now on my stern words will be directed outwards at anything that tries to trip me up again, rather than inwards at myself in reaction to events that I have no control over. I’ve finally figured out that I’m actually kind of cool, and not a total ninny after all.

So on that happy note, it’s back to work for me. I’ve just found out that J R R Tolkien was born in Bloemfontein, South Africa, and only stayed in England because his father passed away. I wonder if he’d have written Lord of the Rings if he’d stayed here. That’s why I love Google. These little nuggets just appear from nowhere to inspire you.