So, I was watching TV and saw a woman who was so stressed, so in the moment, that all she could do was count the tiles on a shop floor. That’s all she could do. The woman seeking to help her said that sometimes counting things helps people to gain a sense of control when they feel like they are losing it. I have to admit I saw the fascination. There are moments when I wish I could just count. Moments when I think that sinking into the gentle oblivion of 1…2…3…4 is not only hypnotic but curiously reassuring. There is a rhythm, mantra like. There is a predictability, it is something you can control, but it has parameters. There are no parameters to my children throwing tantrums. There seem to be no parameters to the never ending housework and there seem to be no parameters to the swirling of my mind.
Counting things
Do you ever get the feeling that you haven’t found your spot yet? You know, the spot in life that would make you purr and be forever contented in your life. I feel that way. Hence the title. Every now and again I think I’ve got it, I have that “Eureka” moment when I think I have found that elusive spot. Then something itches and I find myself circling again trying to find that place, that permanent place. I guess in some ways its a bit of “suffering from seeing what others have done with their lives”. That’s the horror of something like Facebook. You “catch up” with people you haven’t seen in years and read a fantastic filtered account of their life which sounds terribly wonderful and you look at your own and twitch your tail and shuffle around a bit. Why don’t I have photos of me with celebrities, why don’t I have a glamourous job earning loads of money. And then you punish yourself for being so self-centred and think that you should be “happy” with what you have. Well, this is a little way of me circling my spot and trying to find that place, that niche.