Distortion: the action of giving a misleading account or impression

One false move and… 

Being off work is such a treat (although for a teacher, not something you can reasonably describe as a rare treat). Today I got to wake up at the same time as D. instead of 90 minutes before, go for a run, eat a leisurely breakfast and pack for my trip home tomorrow. Lovely.

There were already a few signs that today wasn’t going to be a good day anxiety-wise, a few cracks showing through: I was nervous about finding time to pack (I had at least three hours of unaccounted time); I wasn’t sure if I should clean up or not (not the world’s biggest decision); I wanted to get on with my writing for NaNoWriMo (Very cool writing project: http://nanowrimo.org/). I was just a bit edgy. Still, it wasn’t even 11 and I didn’t have plans until 1. All good. Things were just a bit smudged. Not distorted, not really.

But when 1 pm came, I wasn’t ready. Didn’t have my shoes on, hadn’t done a few checks (oven, straighteners, windows, and etc.), hadn’t ‘packed my bag’ (not my bag for my trip, my bag for lunch). And instead of a quick: shoes, wallet, phone, keys, leave, the door bell rang. The door bell rang, it was time to leave for my lunch date with a friend during a lovely mid-term break, and like a fool, I wasn’t ready. Okay, smudgier still, but recoverable, no?

I know me, I’ve known me all my life. When I am feeling a bit angst-y, trying to do anything in a hurry is a bad idea. Trying to do it in a hurry with someone else there…No chance. I felt stressed, hot, nervous, check-y, uncertain. I double backed on myself a few times as I tried to get ready calmly whilst inside by heart was going boom, boom, boom and my mind was working overdrive. I even lied after leaving the house, saying I had the wrong purse, to go back and check my hair straighteners. Okay, now I’d say things were getting distorted. Now would have been a really good time to take a breath.

Still, that should have been the end of it. I was out the house, fairly sure I’d checked everything. A parting, but deliberate, glance reassured me the front door was shut. Why didn’t it just end there? Why wasn’t that enough? Because I was already watching myself, already chastising myself for not being prepared. My brain was listening out for errors, checking my speech and not knowing where to look. My speech and thought were not in tune, instead I was looking at my lunch but seeing my own stupid self, hearing every nonsense thing that came out of my mouth. Volume was irregular and my ability to follow the conversation lessened. Everything was distorted. And just because I had to leave the house in a hurry.

Was this obvious to an outsider? No, idea. I guess that is distorted in my mind too.


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