It doesn’t take a lot to stress me out. I have lots of free time in which to meander towards my dream livelihoods, which means I have lots of time to stress out. Tuesdays, Fridays and Sundays I am at home all day, supposedly working away at fun stuff like a happy bean, but if I don’t get out of the house before lunchtime, doom strikes – I shall be stressed, angry, worried, and three centimetres away from tears all day.
Unless I go outside. After a walk, saying hi to some trees and telling pussycats how gorgeous they are, nothing seems quite as stressful or overbearing as it did before.
Yesterday was an I-Did-Not-Leave-The-House day, and by the time Superman got home I was furious and crying, and I couldn’t really give a simple reason why. He knew I hadn’t been outside, and remarked that I really couldn’t handle being away from nature for long (while giving me a big feel-better hug naturally).
It was one of those moments were you don’t really get something about yourself until someone else says it first. So, I NEED to be outside once a day to stay sane, just as I NEED to be fed frequently to stop me from DESTROYING YOU.