When our devices go wrong we normally have a moment’s panic, followed by anger, exasperation and finally resignation; of course this would happen wouldn’t it because everything that can go wrong does go wrong? So we rant and rave a bit, spend a few pointless hours on the internet trying to find the solution, maybe book in a visit to get it repaired. At some point we try and ‘restore to factory settings’.
This is normally the last thing we do before conceding defeat. Because in doing so we wipe all the stuff we put on it. Our music, our pictures, our apps. Unless of course we had the foresight to save it all on a regular basis. The irony is, of course, that the breakdown often happens due to the sheer amount of stuff we have on our devices. It’s overloaded and it can’t cope.
So what’s my point?
I want to restore to factory settings. I want to reclaim my life and clear all the stuff that’s causing the smartest device I have (my brain) to go slow and get confused and lose control of emotions. We call our the brain a very smart computer, but computers don’t have emotions and out of everything these are the bits that are hardest to control. If we could restore our brains to factory settings; the point we were at when we were new maybe we could feel revived and well, restored.
I realise I may be sounding somewhat deluded and probably slightly left of insane at this point and who knows maybe I am. But this analogy works for me and I’m rather proud of it.
We all need time in our week to reset ourselves, to just clear the clutter in our minds and restore some semblance of order. Otherwise we become overwhelmed and exhausted and all we can do is fall apart which is rarely seen as anything other than being ‘a bit emotional’. When what it actually is is our body’s way of saying we’ve had enough and we need some time to ‘regroup’(something I might say if I was a) american and b) really annoying.)
Tomorrow is my birthday. I think this may have brought on a sense of getting older (it’s taken a while for me to figure this out, I’m not the brightest star in the sky). I can’t shrug the feeling that my best, fittest, most able years may be moving further away from me in a backwards direction and what lies ahead is a resigned acceptance of what I have and what I have done in life.
I have to accept that I’ll never have any more children. That’s fine I suppose, I have two healthy, lively girls and I could hardly cope with another. But in a rather self-indulgent way there is a sense of loss about that. I could have done, but I didn’t. I couldn’t face the post-natal depression again amongst other things.
I think some people call this a mid-life crisis. Either that or it’s the menopause.
Ah well, happy birthday to me, I’ll just keep on going as we all do.