Anyway… it would now seem that, along with my towering build, I also bring other versions of height to bear on my personality… it seems that I am…
- high functioning
- have high standards
- have high expectations
- high anxiety
- high maintenance
- high volume and high energy levels
(Rearrange the order of that list depending on the time of day, volume of wine consumed and event for which I am preparing/dressing/worrying)
It has been not without a degree of resistance that i have spent the summer taking part in wonderfully insightful and disturbingly accurate sessions of CBT. It transpires that, for all this time, a series of handouts have been waiting, rather like the Prophesies in Harry Potter, to be discovered, written only for and solely about me and my various concerns, thoughts, worries, idiosyncracies and neuroses…
That, or I am part and parcel of a tediously predictable cliché of ‘high’ women…
The Boy has bought me a yet-to-be-taken hot air balloon ride for my birthday and I coincidentally spotted the self-same company’s aircraft high above me this evening on my walk home.
I’m looking forward to the trip into the skies, simultaneously precarious and secure, simultaneously high and low, and simultaneously exhilarated and terrified. Something tells me I should, by now, be used to these emotions…
I’m looking forward to the point in the future when I can look down on my life from a height and recognise my scurrying for what it is: normal, laudable, a degree or two excessive, only a little bit endearing and largely unnecessary…
For now, I am able to see beautiful perspective from a distance of approximately ten minutes after an attack… One day, the CBT will nip it in the bud and I will be relaxed, engaged, interested and nonchalant…
Ha! And one day, a lanky Boy and a gorgeous Girl will fly…
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