Why do my fingers hover over the keyboard? Why do I hesitate to type these words...? Here's a scenario:
I arrive for work today in a new suit. I don't normally wear suits to school, I've got a few but they cost a few quid (not loads... I am a teacher(!), just too much to get them trashed in school), but this one I bought over the summer in H&M for £80, which in suit terms is cheap as chips. So, there I am, in me new whistle, and it garners a few comments - people react when you wear something different - all of them positive. Which is nice. For the old ego. But it also leads to quite a few people saying something along the lines of: "You're loooking really well... how are you at the moment." (As I have mentioned before, I am, basically a UC-bore, at least 50% of the people at work know about the colitis. Talking is my therapy). And I begin to mumble and stammer... "Er, yeah, you know, not bad, all things being equal, ok, yeah, erm, I'm ok as it goes, musn't grumble, not bad, day to day I'm pretty well... at the moment." Then I say something about still being on the steroids and having to go back up the hospital soon, and their eyes glaze over and they start to wish they'd never even approached me, never mind complimented my suit.
Why can't I say it? I've even banned my family, close friends and acquaintances from both asking me and stating their opinion in the affirmative... What am a waffling incoherently on about?
Yep. Even now I am forcing each finger down onto each key. This is taking ages. My typing is slow enough, but I am holding my left index finger in my right hand and forcing it to press down on the keyboard like a man caught in some crazy old Hammer Horror, desperately typing a note explaining everything before his demonic left hand creates merry havoc. I just cannot say (or type)...until now...
"You know what? I'm feeling pretty bloody good right now. Yep. Pretty. Bloody. Good."
Because... admitting that I'm feeling good would be tempting fate. Would be inviting old Beelzebub himself to pop up and tickle my entrails. Would be tantamount to shouting from the top of a mountain, "Here I am, make me ill". It's like daring to believe your team can win - the old sport fans safety net: England probably won't qaulify for the world cup, the england cricket team probably won't win the ashes, betting your team will be relegated at the start of the season, just in case, giving yourself a get-out: every win is a bonus.
So, this is it. This is my negativity. Looping negative thinking. This is what Guy Cohen is talking about in answer to my Q's over on Number Twos. Isn't it? I reckon it is. And I reckon I might just have a go at changing it.
Somebody said to me at school today: "Blimey mate, your cheerful! Are you ok?"
This afternoon I went to the hospital for an appointment to set up my Infliximab course. I told them I didn't want it any more...