I’m currently (yet again) sick! And annoyingly, every time I get physically sick here I get a bit emotionally sick too. I turn into a pessimistic, life hating troll who can see no good in myself, instead basking in Norman’s cruel taunts and adding fuel to his fire in any way possible.
This time as always, it kicks off with questions about the authenticity of my illness. I collude with Norman and together we come to the conclusion that I’m not properly ill, I’m just skiving and being lazy, because I am, at the heart of things, an incredibly lazy person. Which leads nicely on to my lack of ambition. I never stick at things, I just want an easy life, I’m perennially bored but avoid hard work or in fact doing anything at all – blah blah blah the tirade goes on.
I compound the lazy assertion by lying listlessly watching shite tv (yep back to back episodes of Real Housewives – shock horror!).
Ignoring the fact that the mindless viewing is interspersed with regular visits to the bathroom to perform stomach and bowel cleansing activities, I return periodically to my conversation with Norman on the topic of my fraudulently ill status. This isn’t real illness, anyone else would go to work but oh no, not me, lazy cow that I am, I just want to sit here sweating like a moose (do Moose actually sweat I wonder and if not why on earth do I use that phrase?) with a blinding headache and a big fat miserable chimp for company!
And then I manage to flip it briefly and think about what I want to do with my life. The last few weeks have opened up some great opportunities for me professionally and made me think carefully about how to drive my life forward to make sure I’m getting what I need from my work. But again Norman invites me to join him in a self-flagellation session reminding me that I’m not a fully qualified counsellor or coach or anything basically – just a big fat fraud!
After a day of this toing and froing I tell Norman to do one and turn to sleep to find respite from my own head, only for the whole thing to kick off the whole thing again 14 hours later when I eventually wake up to Norman quickly pointing out what a lazy cow I am for sleeping so long.
A case of same sh*t (metaphorical and physical) different day on Tuesday, although the table was definitely turning as I found myself arguing with Norman more often than I was agreeing with him.
And so to day 3. I’m back at my desk, still not 100% fit physically but getting there and 110% ready to tell Norman to do one and get on with living (and loving) my life.