Part 1

My eyes lock onto the glaring computer screen, and I feel the beating of my heart increase, thumping belligerently against my chest. 

My lungs choke up, my stomach cramp and my brain freezes at the horror unfolding before me.

It feels as if I am valiantly trying to pull cold air into already frozen, tiny lungs-, lungs that are too busy being in shock at the insanity currently transpiring on my laptop, to work properly.

In those quick seconds, my consciousness finally processes what is happening, and I know true, unadulterated, millennial fear. 

Almost instantly I am swamped by the kind of icy, prickly, blanketing terror that is causing this cold fusion reaction to detonate within my own body.

There is only one thing I am focusing on right now and it is the horror show unfolding in real time on my laptop, which is causing my body to burn both hot and cold in unreal intervals, as I sit appalled on one of my wooden breakfast chairs with its abstract designed cushion of green, white and taupe, eyes affixed to the screen. 

I stare at my black Acer laptop,- the one I had so happily accepted from my brother just a few months ago, after my white Mac finally gave up the ghost after years of valiant fighting-, feeling absolutely betrayed.

My laptop is glitching. 

The article I’ve been working on via Microsoft Word for over a week is … for lack of a better word, dancing.

The digital window is phasing in and out as if teasing me with the possibility of crashing, and I want to respond to it violently.

I want to do something-anything- to make the dancing stop, but in some distant, still rational part of my mind, I know that attacking the keyboard would be a futile exercise in frustration.

Still, I am so tempted to smash those buttons in hopes one of them magically solves whatever is happening now.



That same quietly rational part of my brain whispers that there is nothing I can do except wait and see what happens.

 It encourages me to hope for the best even as I watch the window spazz right before my eyes, the icy tight grip of fear squeezing around my heart.

Just as I’m hitting the gas to catapult me to the next level of my abject fear that this document will be corrupted, that my computer will crash, that I will lose everything, Microsoft Word proudly proclaims from its header, two words that infuriate me: “Not Responding”.

Well duh!

Quickly scanning the bottom of the document, I see that it is stuck in a bid to save a draft, and somehow I know that this action is the reason the rest of the apps on this laptop are also sticking.

It is as if Word high-jacked the R.A.M of all the other programs, and like a digital vampire is sucking them dry.

I take a deep breath, trying to take my mind away from where it is teetering precariously over the pit of doom; trying to breathe away the increasingly negative and panicked thoughts that are now vying for supremacy in my head, all to little avail.

“I am so fucked!” 

“If this computer crashes, I am done for!

I don’t have enough money to buy a new one!

I don’t have any money at fucking all!” 

I feel like screaming and my jaw aches from keeping it all inside, while my stomach cramps further as I try to suppress the torrent of emotions that feel as if they are  coming from my toes, demanding release from the body I’ve apparently been keeping them hostage within.

My thoughts as the window continues to glitch like a portal opening turn angrier, they come in lightning quick, filling my chest with a barrage of emotions that are adding to the feeling of screaming like a banshee, all clamouring for release together.

They make me want to hit something, preferably the laptop just to vent some of the energy out.

Some part of my brain is telling me to strike it. ‘Hit it and see if it works’, it tempts.

I know better.

I know I need to step away and take in some deep, calming breaths; I know I need to believe that this is a temporary thing, a warning sign that I need to save my documents better and prepare to buy a new computer.

I know that the events transpiring right now are not actually life or death …

I know all of this and yet … rage is boiling up inside of me. 

It’s too freaking early in the morning for this ish. 

I’m not nearly Zen enough to deal with the ramifications of my laptop crashing and taking all my work with it into the ether. 

The very thought is enough to trigger my brain into spiraling me straight to the depths of my unique, worst case scenario hell.

I try to halt my slide down into the ether, but the avalanching momentum of my thoughts is inexorably pushing me further and deeper into the darkness.

Already, I can feel the murky, mind sludge reaching for me, trying to engulf and reclaim me.

It’s fucked up because I only just escaped its clutches last week, dragging myself back to the surface for a breath of sweet clarity, after feeling as if I was caught up in a twister of pain, guilt and  burdened by way too many failures.

And now here I am, so easily and randomly triggered into falling into the pit once again.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes; hold that breath for a few seconds before exhaling in a soft whoosh through my slightly parted lips.

I push all of the air out of my lungs until it looks like I’ve achieved a stomach vacuum, my ribs prominent against my torso. 

I try to calm my rampaging thoughts, aware in this moment of clarity that those thoughts are the very things pushing me into that mind fogginess, where I will be stuck and unable to properly function for the rest of the day if I’m not careful.

I repeat my breathing technique of 5 seconds of inhaling; holding the breath for 5 seconds, and then pushing all of that air, right out of me for the count of 5. 

I repeat and repeat, until I feel my body relax, the tension easing out of my shoulders, allowing them to drop from up by my ears. 

I continue until my body feels somewhat drained of tension, loose, and calm, only then do I reopen my eyes.

The first thing I notice when I do is that the glitch is spreading. 

“Google Chrome’s New Tab is Unresponsive” proclaims itself across my screen heartlessly. 

The second is that my mobile has joined the glitching party.

The home screen is twitching and as I watch, Whatsapp launches itself, opens up one of my convo threads and then highlights a message, as if it has something to say in reply.

I’m extra mad because now the message has those blue ticks that mean ‘read’ and it is not damn well time to be ‘read’ yet! 

That person will think I read their messages and then ghosted them. Sigh. Or worse, they’ll think I’m online and available for chatting, something I am definitely not right now.

In the midst of so many things going wrong at once, I legit feel the black sludge turn to red and grab roughly at my throat, making it ache as my jaw locks and my teeth grit harshly against each other. 

Maybe I’m trying to keep the red in? 

Maybe I’m trying to make the anger disappear? 

I’m not sure, all I know is that my emotions are heightened, my throat aches and the urge to hit something is even stronger than before.

I’m holding myself so rigidly that I start to feel a throbbing right above my left eye and what I know are the first warning throbs of an oncoming headache.

 I slam my eyes shut and feel my stomach drop.

My fists are clenched tightly on the tabletop and my breathing is harsher, breaths sticking in my throat. 

Something is coming.

Something big, something dark and something I desperately want to fight against. 

It pushes at me, hard and powerful and before I know it, I’m teetering over the thin edge, trying my best to find my footing before I fall headlong into the spiraling darkness of my negative emotions …

Too late.

I’m in the fudging pit of doom; sent over the edge by my recalcitrant tech. 

The fact that both of my most used and needed devices are misbehaving and so spectacularly at that, not only pisses me off, but also triggers a sudden, severe downward spiral. 

The symptoms are there: the way my exhales stick in my throat, feeling so sluggish, the brain freeze, the stupid, trapping sludge I can feel trying to drown me, and all of it fuelled by a cocktail of ‘negative’ emotions that simply ruined all chances of me having a good mood today.

I hate malfunctioning tech- who doesn’t, except maybe those who get paid to fix them? -, and I especially hate the feeling that this particular experience is dredging up within me. 

I think I understand now how a swamp feels anytime a submerged vehicle is tugged and dragged out of its murky depths, disrupting its chill.

‘Please stop tugging on that!’ is what I long to yell as these emotions tug on the latch I had them safely behind, spewing within me, malignant and hungry as they are set free. 

I feel them erupt cold and mean within me. 

The way my mind becomes foggy and I can’t think…

 … the way the top of my head hurts slightly, starts up a painful throbbing that makes my eyes hurt and the way my breathing changes to a choppier rhythm, all herald the black spiral building up with me, further fuelled by a wave of combined sadness and fear that engulf my body, changing the temperature and heaviness of some of my limbs.

Unfortunately for me, all I can do is breathe through it all, try to encourage my body that the stress response it’s currently launching isn’t actually necessary.

I’m not just angry, no, that would be ok; rather, with the appearance of the sludge and my fall into the pit of despair, I feel attacked. 

Triggered.

And I know that logically all I actually need to do in this moment is accept the emotions this trigger moment is bringing up for me, but it is easier said than done.

Logically I know that fighting to push through this, trying to repress or suppress what is happening is not a great idea, but doing just that feels supremely tempting right now.

Taking a deep breath, I still for a moment and assess myself. 

What do I need right now? What should I do in this moment to not give into my usual, hurtful paradigms?

I need to move away from the sources of my triggers,- in this case my malfunctioning tech and the overwhelmingly despairing evidence of all my failures- and will them to simply fix themselves when I’m not looking. 

So that’s what I do.

I push off of the chair and walk into the TV room, where sitting down on the arm of one of the soft covered sofas, I stare through the open window at the tall, lone coconut tree that always soothes me as it sways slightly in the breeze.

Birds land on its spread branches calling to each other, while I try to remind myself that the best State of Being I can be in right now is that of calmness, yet even as I look and basically hypnotize myself with the swaying tree, I’m still very keyed up over the fearfully, devastating meaning of my malfunctioning tech right now and what it signifies about me and my many, many failings.

Nevertheless, I know that I need to calm down. 

I know that my tech needs me to calm down.

I have a theory about my technology; I believe that they respond to the State of Being I’m in and the energy I’m emitting, thus this display of mischief tells me that I need to calm the fuck down, talk myself off the ledge and out of the sludge so to speak.

I hate the cocktail of fear, shame, despair and guilt that overcomes me at any sign that my tech will fail me.

I loathe the impending inevitability of the blue screen of death and I am not about having to suffer the consequences of lost data, compounded by a ruined tech to owner relationship that until this moment had been going so well. 

Most of all however, I despise the feeling of impotence all of this brings to the fore within me.

Grumbling as I look through the window at the admittedly wonderful view of my tropical home, I try to calm my thoughts but it is as effective as trying to calm a stampeding herd already rushing down a hill.

I’m already having an aggravating conversation in my mind with a technician who is going to tell me to just buy a new laptop and that I should have saved what I needed in a safer place, paired with the most patronizing of looks. 

I’m already living in a tech apocalypse, because there is no way I can afford a new laptop at all right now and my stomach is cramping harder at the strain and shame of having to ask my family for money to either repair or buy a new laptop and it makes me feel nauseous.

I can already see how their judging and disappointed looks will transform their faces in my mind and it feels like it’s happening right now.

That image and the skin crawling feelings of being a huge disappointment, despite working so hard and tirelessly leads me quite marvelously to the self loathing portion of the deeply hurtful  emotionally charged twister spiral.

“If only I could make more money!”

“If these damn products would sell, then I could just go buy a new thing and I wouldn’t have to be so freaking scared right now.”

“ Whhyyy the fuck aren’t they selling?? Why the fuck did I decide to try this entrepreneurship garbage?!”

“Why can’t I make money?!”

“Are all my ideas really that bad?”

“… Or is it me? Am I stopping myself from making money? Is my energy off? How the fuck do I change that? How?!”

It’s getting ugly. 

The coconut tree has failed me and I’m sure both devices have blown themselves up by now in the ultimate act of betrayal, because clearly the Universe hates me.

Hates me specifically and loves to watch me suffer.

Cruel, unfair, mean things! 

I want to ugly cry.

My eyes start that weird ache they do seconds before I have to choke back a telling sniffle. I can feel that weird strike against my heart as my fear, dread and impotence gain possession.

I refuse to cry. 

Crying is a sign of weakness. I will not give the Universe the satisfaction! 

It feels as if my skin is on fire. 

No, not my skin, my soul; that energy that resides close to my heart is boiling, it wants to flay me alive. 

My brain is chanting self-deprecating things at me as if we are at our own personal emo concert.

Suddenly, I am so exhausted, my whole body heavy as if weighed down, my brain feels like its spewing lava and that trapped, stress based energy boiling up within me is going to erupt like an active volcano. 

The black, thick, suffocating ash that swirls around after the impending eruption will be the tattered remains of my ability to pull myself out of this pit, my ability to not completely fall apart from how badly I’ve been triggered. 

I’m not sure I can even save myself anymore and wonder as I slump against the cushions if I should just give into the sludge, even as everything in me tells me to fight!

Resist it and all it means! My mind screams at me.

However, I’m tired and feel completely deflated; all that remains in me right now is the certainty that I’m definitely a fuck up who consistently and spectacularly fails at this one most important job of being a human adult and life, it seems positively delights in reminding me about it often.

This thought sends daggers to my heart, and my stomach feels as if it is resting on sharp icicles. 

Just like that I want nothing more than to lie down in a fetal position and never move again.

I want to sleep away this fear, this certainty that I’m wasting my life away, that I’m a huge failure and am doomed to always be.

I feel the emotions rise cold in my chest, spreading to my legs and arms and I release a huge breath as the red sludge surge and crash over me like a tsunami wave, forcefully sending me crashing into the freezing darkness.

I was gifted it after my Mac died in my arms and I remember how lucky and blessed I had felt when he had just given me this laptop that had looked almost brand new.

The phone is the same. 

Gifted to me by my friend after the last one I had had also expired, and she had bought a new one for herself, so the fact that they are malfunctioning to my less riled up brain is just a warning of their time. 

I will not begrudge them that.

No.

The thing that actually triggered and keeps triggering me is the fear and stress of spending money, more precisely, ‘spending money I do not have’, and ‘spending money I believe in my heart will take a long time to come again’. 

I can already hear my inner voice saying ‘we will have to make due’, meaning that I should do all I can, while I can on this dying laptop before the end truly hits down, and all that does is fill me with the certainty that I’m fucked.

What I’m really mad about is the feeling of being powerless and trapped. 

That feeling of knowing that right now I am broke and can see no viable way to resolve my current dilemma. 

I am pissed because I feel less than.

I am enraged that as an adult who has been trying to generate money in her business, I have failed and continue to fail.

I’m angry that even as I am pursuing my dreams, my dreams are apparently not pursuing me with any kind of the fiery passion I would love them to.

I am afraid of money- making too little and making too much- and I’m losing my hope and faith in my success at creating a lifestyle that feels so safe, happy and warm for myself.

 If I’m being honest, recently I’ve not felt abundant or capable, rather I feel as if I’m in constant famine and it sucks so much!

It feels as if no matter what I do or how much I try to rise above my money woes, I will be knocked back into the ocean of scarcity at a moment’s notice and there is just nothing I can do about it, even as I continue to wage a one-sided war against the sheer unjustness of it all. 

It’s the war of the scarcity mindset.

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