It's Day 18 and I’ve been immersed up to my eye-balls in the paranoid phase over the last few days - questioning, wondering and worrying about anything and everything - and I’m now drifting rapidly and uncontrollably towards the obsessive compulsive stage.
Examinations and analysis of every twinge, discharge, mood and breath have begun in earnest and I expect these to intensify as the days go on until my body reaches one of two natural conclusions.
In the meantime, I have been doing what I can to stay sane – writing this blog is definitely helping but I've also been having reflexology. I'm fairly new to this alternative healing art but am finding it increasingly therapeutic.
Besides which, my reflexologist is a complete hoot and has me in fits of laughter within minutes of lying back in that comfortable old chair of hers - presumably a rather cunning technique to distract me from the incredibly painful shenanigans occurring around my feetal area (that’s feetal, not foetal).
I have been frequenting this shed of torture-slash-comedy for a few months now in the expectant hope that these sessions are helping to unblock whatever jumbled up mess or confusion is going on inside this body of mine.
At the very least, they give me the gift of laughter for an hour or so and for that I’m very grateful.
Until next time.