Hysteria: an explanation

Apologies for my earlier outburst. It had to happen. I couldn’t contain it any longer. Truly things aren’t that relaxed right now (the antithesis of Paul Whitehouse’s “Brilliant” character in The Fast Show). The day-job is going arse-end upwards to the point that it’s been the most stressful time here in the ten years I’ve worked for this employer - the finance world isn’t exactly making things a bed of roses, and it all looks a bit bleak. Family wise is also a bit fraught, so there’s no escape there either. But mostly, Friday was just a shit day.

In fact, the only reprieve at the moment is in the writing, where it continues to calm me down, encourage me and give me the chance to escape what is in effect hysteria-city. It’s been suggested to me that I’m taking on too much, writing included, well the writing is the only thing keeping me sane so that will be staying for the time being. It’s just a shame that I don’t have the same control over everything else that I have over my writing. Confidence included.

So. Like everyone else I’m riding it out. The good thing is that I have my writing to withdraw into. But the bad thing is that I have my writing to withdraw into. Because it isn’t wholly a good thing to rely on something so solitary as writing to be the focal point of happiness. Writing is addictive. It won’t damage your health like smoking, drinking or drugs, but it will cripple your social skills. It will turn you into a hermit, ostracised by friends and family if you spend too much time at the desk rather than the real world. So. So. So… I’ll drag myself away from this comfortable environment and just deal with it.
Everyone else is.

So, Aliya asked whether everything was going well. The writing is, and I guess that’ll do for now, as I work on getting the rest of my life into line too.