Stress.

The last time I posted here, I was quite poorly.
A couple of nights before I was chucking my guts up.
Earlier that day I had received a few emails saying I was unsuccessful, yet again.
I still didn't know who my sister was staying with in London, or where.
But, I did know that she was still talking to GAY; and possibly staying with him.
Kumar had FaceBooked me earlier asking me when I could get the rest of the money to her.
...and I hadn't spoken to Quasi in a week, I think.

I hadn't been sleeping properly, either.
All these thoughts.
Ruminations.
Worries.

I was walking back from buying food for stupid guests we were having that night.
..and I found myself panicking at the thought of returning home.
I didn't want to come back.

But, I had to.
Guests were coming.
So, I did.

I cleaned the house, prepared the food and even attempted to tidy up the mess that I call a bedroom.
I'd been sighing a lot, almost finding it a task to breathe normally.
...and after spending that time working around the house, my head started to feel light.

So I excused myself to my bedroom, armed with Philly Cheese, Crackers, a bottle of Southern Comfort and a jug of Vimto and Lemonade.
I started reading my Grammar book; it's always close by for times when I need something to distract me.
...and I started mixing my VimtAid with the Southern Comfort.
It tasted nice, so I mixed in more.
Fifteen minutes later, the bottle was empty, and it felt like the room was spinning.

I totally didn't associate this feeling with the amount of alcohol I had just drank.
Considering, I usually don't drink more than a very diluted glass at a time.
..and I remembered that I was feeling light-headed earlier any way.
So, I thought I must be coming down with something.

I tried to sort out my calendar.
...Still need to reschedule the photoshoot, the Show's on Sunday - must get CDs ready and Little One hasn't rehearsed yet, have to pop into some strange recruitment office with my passport at 10am on Monday...
So many things to do, to remember.
I could feel it bubble up.
The panic.
The feeling that isn't it enough time.
The worry.
The Bitch that we all know as Stress.

It wasn't panic, nor worry, nor stress. though.
It was vomit.

I managed to crawl to the bathroom door and stand up just in time.
I didn't get close to the toilet, but I managed to aim the projection at the bowl.
Coriander leaves came out of my nose.

I wish I could use some metaphor to describe how the poison leaving my body was similar to the stress relief.
But, wait.
The stress was still there.

I cleaned up the bathroom, gargled with mouthwash, and cleaned my nose out.
My parents came up after the guests left and asked what all the racket was about.

I went to bed.
Still worrying, still planning, still sorting things out.
I was woken up at 8am to make a doctor's appointment for father.
The post rattled the letterbox, a notice to say my sister's gone over her overdraft, mother has x amount of debt still outstanding, and lots of letters to say, "Sorry, Nessy, we just don't want you".

This year has knocked the stuffing out of me, bit by bit.
...and I think that was the last of it.
I went back to bed.

I finally got up at 3pm.
Typical Bum time to wake up.
...but, surely, I live a different lifestyle to a Bum...?