Bursting Balloons

Sometimes life can become one big balloon filled with headaches. Like life the balloon is the life and soul of the party, floating around and touching everything it meets. When the party’s over it sinks to the lowest depth and just sort of scuttles around on the floor. One gust of wind from an open door and it’s off again. But if you leave that balloon, just as if you leave life too long, it starts to shrivel and the headaches inside get compressed and scream to get out. If you pop it, all the headaches come out at once, realising the party is over and all your problems are facing you all at the same time.

It’s Monday and although I haven’t written for a while I apologise for starting back up again with this awful analogy. But I feel ‘Shitty’ and it’s not due to Lockdown or the Virus or anything to do with Love Life nor the Universe. I have just stopped living.

Every Monday I get up. A new week, a new beginning and a fresh start. I have more diaries, schedules and plans than NASA made for the launch of its Mars satellite system. (Oh, sorry is that not a thing, don’t worry, neither is my new life, We can all dream)

This week will be different, just as last week, and the week before. Then I catch sight of that bloody balloon, kicking around on the floor. I want it gone. If I let it go it will take the headaches with it, but eventually it will shrink and compress or it will burst and no matter where it is or whoever holds it, it’s still mine. Out of sight out of mind doesn’t work.

So, what do I do, I can’t keep blowing it up, balloons don’t work like that. I can’t pretend it’s not there. I have to decide on how to manage the release of headaches. I know this. I knew it last week, and the week before and the week before. So why didn’t I do it then?

What would my friends do? One of them would hold the balloon and try to keep it safe for as long as possible, talk calmly to it and go about her business. She is the one that would have a breakdown when the balloon finally burst and I would be there for her to help pick up the pieces. One would get a pin, take the balloon to the middle of a domed building and burst the bugger, making the loudest noise and then get each headache out of the way. Then there is Miss sensible, the one that would wait for the balloon to start to shrink and let out a bit of headache, retie, deal with it and then go back for the rest when she was ready.

I can’t be like any of them. I want it all out of he way, standing by with a pin, too scared to burst the balloon and let everything out. I watch the headache inside get squeezed and I feel the pain. I want to hold it in as long as possible but don’t have the courage to deal with what I know will inevitably happen.

My decision isn’t easy. Do I hold on to the life I have and wait for the headaches that will inevitably happen? Do I dive in and get stuck in, bursting the balloon and try in vain to hold every headache at bay whilst I deal with it, or do I try and tackle each headache one at a time? Knowing my luck, I’ll open up and everything will flood in at once.

Now I’m waiting for the doubters that will be saying “OMG how pessimistic is that!” But I know because it’s all my fault. No one else. I blew up the balloon. Every time I crossed the path of a problem I just put all my rage and anger into the balloon instead of dealing with it, and now it’s all jumbled up and angry and malevolent, (don’t you just love that word)

Today is Monday, the first day of the rest of my life. I’m holding my balloon and I’m going to try and deal with my problems. Maybe when the balloon starts to shrink the headaches will be manageable and can be taken care of it without much fuss.

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