I’ve been finding myself severely agitated over the last few days and not sure why. It started a couple of days ago and at the time I thought it was triggered by a soy chai latte from Starbucks (which will be my last for a while anyway – sugar is no longer on the menu).

Last week after the skating accident I had the same thing, but worked through it and identified the problems.

This week though, it’s back. Last night I was unbelievably sad and unhappy, mainly due to a phone conversation and the aftermath of that. I wrote, and wrote and wrote and wrote… it was almost non-stop until 2am. Then this morning I wrote a letter which I will never post, and the resolution arrived.

And now I’m back in it again. I woke angry, speculated a bit (which is what I do when I’m agitated), checked something, got really upset and angry, threw the laptop across the bed, then wrote some stuff out in a document.

Writing helps me.

Only about 20 one sentence statements got me to a place where I could work out something; they veered  from the anger, hurt and child-like reactions:

• “I am” (“I am feeling left out”; “I am feeling nasty”);
• “I have” (“I have unpleasant, nasty thoughts”);
• “I feel” (“I feel like I’m the one making all the compromises”);

…to ones more self-aware and of ownership:

“My moods” (“My moods are all over the place”, “my moods are controlling me”, “my moods are creating the situation”);

then finally I was led into queries and problem-solving:

“Could it be” (“could it be the hormones?”, “Could it be old patterns?”, “Could it be I haven’t had time for me?”)

I realised something: this is what my father did. The pattern was so close as to be uncanny: a slow arcing up, slow burn, some resentment, building, building, building, then a dark feeling of being alone and excluded (which is my stuff); all irrational, nasty, spiteful and out of character but uncontrollable like a tide hammering over me, lifting me up and carrying me along.

I researched mood-swing, which is the first thing that came to mind based on the statements.

That led me, thanks to google to wikipedia. There I found that ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder) people suffer mood swings. I was diagnosed with Adult ADD a few years ago. Mood Swings ADD led me to a couple of sites with home remedies but suddenly the tension and anger was gone.

Whether the damn thing is still there is another thing altogether. Maybe I cut the blue wire and the bomb is now disarmed? Maybe there’s another one lurking just around the corner?

All I do know is that I’m getting better at noticing the signs, finding ways to fix my own reactions and minimising harm to those I care about.

And for that I have to be thankful.

It’s funny, but I’m wondering if this would be of use once I’m out in the world doing counselling?

I’m on the 112 tram on my way to meet mum at southern cross station. It’s a cold spring day in Melbourne (is there any other kind?!) and I have a bit of a sore throat, which time and care will determine whether it becomes better or worse.

I find myself at a loose end mentally now school has concluded. Or rather, I now have 3 extra days per week to organize the things I need to graduate.

Also, I have many plans for my organization which have a real chance of coming to fruition.

I’m designing the way it works with a focus on the “end user” (to use the information technology terms I’m used to).

The core issue I have seen in many organizations is either too little or too much engagement with the people they ultimately serve. There is value in community involvement but there has to be a limit, because you can’t please all of the people all of the time. Further, I feel that ideas need to develop in the wider world, with small ones expanding and developing into bigger ones.

Of course, in this way it is possible that mistakes will be made. But as Steve Jobs once commented “at least that means decisions are being made.”.

It is with this philosophy that I’m building the organization; an ideal that with every faltering step forward, with every fall, we still have the courage to pick ourselves up again, learn from the experience and try, try again.

That, as the poet Tennyson says is the goal:

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield

I keep waking up in the middle of the night. My mind just goes on and on and on.

Tonight I worked out why.

I eat protein in the morning and during the day to keep my mind alert and my body awake.

So why eat it at night at any time before going to bed?

Amazingly glad
To be in my bed right now
No punchline, just truth!

I currently define frustration as the act of sitting at a computer screen surfing endlessly and vaguely researching IT fixes when I should really be putting the time and energy toward creative pursuits.

I’ve been sitting at Monash library Clayton for a good 2 hours. I’ve written a single email, fixed a problem on a site, logged into a couple more and done a whole lot of facebooking and reading news articles about things I just don’t care about.

Now I’m blogging about being frustrated.

It’s kind of perverse really.

I’m sitting here in my box-filled loungeroom at home, waiting for the water to cool in the kettle for a hot water bottle.

A move is happening – 18 days to a new home. Initial excitement has given way to melancholy; I’ve lived in this lovely old thing for nearly 4 years; a tenth of my lifetime in these walls. Three cats, three housemates, good times and bad within this home in Fitzroy North.

I feel a bit like I’m losing an old friend; slowly slipping from my grasp. I blame rising rent and a lack of light, but really, is that enough to part ways? It has been the first stable home I’ve known in over 10 years of moving here-and-there. To put another slant on it, I feel like I’m losing my Tardis.

But the deed is done. I’ve handed in notice, am packing boxes, signed a lease on a new light-filled-lower-rent home in Thornbury and it’s just a waiting and packing game now.

Feeling into the sadness, I find emotions aplenty; regret, loss to name but two. Will the soul of this lovely home miss me I wonder?

The sheikh looked meaningfully at his camel then at the horse standing nearby. The stranger looked concerned when the Sheikh walked over to him and began to speak.

‘How much for the horse?’

‘You should get roadworthy, mister,’ said the local. ‘Don’t want any problems.’

‘Your friend is clever,’ said the sheikh to the stranger. Then to the local: ‘Is there anywhere I can get such a service in this town of yours?’

‘I reckon dave down at the ranch’d be able to help you mister.’

‘Dave,’ said the sheikh meaningfully, rolling the name around in thought, and completely ignoring the stranger who spoke thus:

‘A thousand and I won’t take a penny less.’

The horse gave the stranger an astonished look and headbutted him, sending the cowboy tumbling away.

Life is not a box of chocolates. It’s not a bunch of roses either. Sometimes it’s like falling into a rosebush. Sure, you might be surrounded by the sweet smell of the flowers, but the thorns scratch you a bit and sometimes expose what’s underneath because they’ve ripped little holes in your clothing.

This is not necessarily a bad thing. Exposing what’s there and seeing what’s really being hurt is very good, because it allows you to learn something about yourself.

This is my life. Sometimes there’s the smell of roses (I’m using this loosely; I don’t mind the smell of roses, some of them are a bit overpowering, but I’ll ignore that for the purposes of this post), and sometimes there’s the thorns.

Sometimes I learn things I wish I hadn’t.

But then a little time passes and these things get the perspective they need and I can look at them clearly; I can see them for what they are and then make the choice to change, modify or ditch. That’s not possible immediately though. In the moment, it’s hard to learn something that’s painful or is causing pain. It’s even harder if you’re a person that expects perfection from themselves.

So, as I sit here, I must just breathe, I must chill. I must give this the time it needs to get the persepective I need.

Then I can make the decisions.

There came a rumbling in the distance. The old-timer glanced up at the interruption to the conversation he was having with the stranger and commented thus:

“Well, there’s something you don’t see every day.”

From the horizon came a cloud of smoke, approaching slowly and ponderously. As time passed, it became clear the cowboy wasn’t the only one with a steed passing through this town.

“Shalom,” said the sheik, bowing elegantly after he and his camel came to a halt beside the stranger.

The old timer cleared his throat and the Sheik seemed to notice him for the first time.

“Does either of you know the route to Cordoba?” asked the sheik in a striking example of the Queen’s English. “It seems I’ve become unexpectedly lost.”

“Can’t say I do,” said the old timer, glad of someone else to talk to. The stranger had done his head in.

“Maybe you could get a map at the service station I passed earlier?” said the stranger with a helpful smile. He couldn’t help noticing the camel was eyeing him seriously. It groaned mightily and folded its legs downward at the direction of the Sheikh.

What a weekend.

It started unpleasantly, and got worse. I had a sore throat Friday night which didn’t shift on Saturday and by 4pm had turned into a cold.

Sunday there was more cold. However, there was a message from my gorgeous partner to brighten my day, and my worries had been unfounded: all was well.

By Sunday evening the majority of the snot and feverishness were at a peak. At about 3am that night the fever broke and I was able to sleep without dreaming Really Weird Stuff.

Take this one for example:

I’m walking through Bunnings hardware and there is a man with a beard belligerently cutting electrical cables on his hands and knees with a gun. No sawing motion, just a gunshot when he wanted to cut the cable.

I retreated to the electrical section and mentioned the man to one of the assistants. I also said – get this – that the man was my partner?! I mean, What The Fuck?!

I ended up in a car with my partner, my Real One and it turned out we were driving out of Chadstone shopping hell centre, me in the drivers seat and them in the passenger. Only they were ALSO my partner from 15 years ago.

I subscribe to the idea that everyone in your dream is a part of your own personality.

The man with the gun… the Bearded Belligerent Man With A Gun was and still is a bit of a concern. My partner being my current AND ex is another interesting spin, though this is easier to understand: my current partner is, to date, my longest relationship in 10 years, and the one I’d really quite like to spend many many more years with. My former partner was in the same boat and, except for a single major mistake on my part, we would probably still be together now. We haven’t seen each other in years though, and they are living their life hopefully to its full potential.

My current partner is re-entering my life tomorrow for dinner and a movie, and best of all, a sleepover! I’m dancing on the inside!