The bliss of not thinking…

I love not thinking, not having any thoughts at all is bliss or else just letting your mind wander wherever it may choose but without the anxiety of knowing you actually have to think of things to do.

Every Tuesday morning I don’t think. For one blissful hour all my thinking is done for me. All I have to do is put one foot in front of the other and try not to fall over.

I have a personal trainer. He’s a 6 foot Scot built like a brick shit house and is a former ex-Army PT instructor and without him, well, without him life would be intolerable. For as well as forcing me to run and exercise he also takes away the huge burden I carry around with me: my brain.

I am often told that I think too much and that I should just stop: easier said than done but with SFS (Six foot Scot) there is no point thinking. As he often says: “I’ll do the thinking. You just do as you’re told.” And “Don’t get clever it doesn’t suit you” and words of wisdom along a similar vein and it is heaven.

For one hour I do as I am told and run and exercise my guts out and all the while I know someone else is in charge. I am free of all responsibility. While I must do exactly as I am told and look smart about it, I am strangely liberated during that one hour.

It is better therapy than you would believe and worth every penny spent, though to be honest; in the four years I have been training the price has yet to go up. I started out with a crook back, for SFS as well as being a PT is also a Sports Massage Therapist and while I was there trying not to get embarrassed about my flobby body lying inert on a table, we talked of the Army and that sort of thing and I plucked up the courage to ask if he would help me learn to run so that I could play with my children without having half a heart attack after five minutes.

He took me on, taught me to walk then run exercised me and even trained me for the London Marathon but more importantly every Tuesday he relieves me of the burden of my mind.

Mad cat ladies and official form filling....

I have a feeling that it is not good for me to think. Thinking should be banned except when you are being nice, feel in a great mood or need to drive safely, otherwise it is an overated pastime.
What gets achieved when you think? Nothing because you are too busy thinking and thinking can lead you down some very strange alleys if you don't keep it firmly in check.
There you are minding your own busienss driving back home from school and the next thing you know you are envisaging your life as a lonley old woman wearing clothes riddled with cat fleas and being known as the mad cat woman in the village, all because you extrapolated what might happen if you forget to sign a school outing form. It can be MOST disconcerting! It's not as if I have that many cats...
So how did I get from school outing form to mad cat lady living on my ownsome? Weeeelllll....by failing to sign said form child did not go on outing scarring him for life and resulting in label as bad mother. As a bad mother one of course would expect also to be a bad wife leading understandably to husband swapping defunct wife nos 1 for superior model that works better and doesn't forget basic things like school forms. Since known as Bad mother children would live with father and only occasionlly be forced to visit bad mother for form's sake before abandoning all pretence at age of majority. Bad mother would seek soalce in the feline form etc etc
Now I had better get that form filled in....