Sod's Law has been skulking into my life aplenty this week.  Yesterday in particular, I had one heck of a near miss...literally, a matter of seconds and all hell would likely have broken loose.  Luckily, the ‘terror-trigger’, for want of a better word, was spotted, right in the nick of time.  As if in slow motion, it crept up, resembling a ghost car, hovering, like a horror movie star wanabee.  I felt like I was in a horror movie at any rate. 

I spend my life acting as a sentinel on the lookout for this ‘terror-trigger’: always wary to the point of scepticism; always cautious to the point of obsession; and always terrified to the point of paranoia.  How typical then, for this ‘terror-trigger’ to turn up in this one particular place at this one particular time, almost catching me unawares. 

Leaping into panic mode, I almost lost it.  Luckily, I wasn’t alone in what would have been a nightmare situation.  Luckily, we were able to laugh about it, as we do, easing the fear and turmoil bubbling up inside me.  It was one of those situations that provoke an array of emotions (both at the time and looking back): first of all fear; then relief at the near miss; a dread of what could have been; then terror in waiting for the moment to pass; frightening flashbacks; a sense of comedy at how pathetic things have become; and actually, rather an unexpected distraction from having to be afraid of what I was about to face...the scales in the doctor’s surgery.

I dove into the back of the car and hid, lying down, as if undercover, on the back seat.  What a palaver came next!  It felt like an age, lying there, anticipating the worst, and not being able to see what was happening for fear of being seen myself.  I am just so incredibly glad I was not alone!  How horrible it is to be left alone with one’s fear.  How wonderful it is to have such a fantastic friend!  Time ticked on and ‘terror-trigger’ eventually emerged and evacuated the scene and I was able to surface and enter the surgery.

The doctor could not have been any nicer, but that did not make getting on the scales any easier, or make me hate myself any less.  I managed it, but I felt I had no choice.  I wasn’t forced, but I just cannot say no, especially under pressure.  I have to go for blood tests tomorrow, which, actually, is not bothering me in the slightest.  Just the stupid scales bother me.  Stepping onto them was the absolute most difficult feat I have faced in a while.  I’m still feeling like utter crap about it now, which has caused me to make really stupid mistakes all day and led to me taking it out on myself because I feel like such an obtuse imbecile.  What frustrates me is that it does not make any sense at all.  It is so completely irrational, and I know it, and I am so completely inane.