"Showing the effects of exhaustion or strain".
The above definition of being frazzled describes last week. I am in between weeks as this essay was due to be posted last week, and I let time slip.
It started with my son crashing his car, my mum having a seizure, spending the afternoon in the hospital under observation and the passing of a dear family friend eight months after being diagnosed with cancer.
And to top it all, last Saturday, I woke up to the devastating news that Matthew Perry, the undisputed comedic star of Friends, had passed.
My heart stopped momentarily a thud, a moment where time stood still.
My husband bought me a cup of tea, knowing what a massive fan I am of Friends and said, 'You've heard the news then?
By Sunday night, I felt tired, anxious and frazzled and watching the F1 GP race didn't calm my over-anxious mind.
Finding peace and calm is elusive.
Life is like one of those long slides you find at a water park, but there's no stopping and no way of getting off.
2019 was the last time that I felt life and the world resembled a modicum of normality.
Sure, war, famine and poverty were and are still constant, but for the most part, we got on with living and knew where we were.
Four years on, and we can't seem to get through a week without more world drama and the subsequent fallout; humanity leaves much to be desired.
Chaos, like a ship without a navigation aid drifting in a cold black ocean. And I wonder when life will ever feel normal.
Unable to process everyday banalities, I have seven weeks until Christmas, how did we get here.
Hamas-Israeli conflict continues, and its fallout reverberates around the world. The days are endless and feel breathlessly difficult.
It feels like the odds are stacked against humanity, and there's no chance of getting a break as we stumble from one challenging situation to another.
There's no firm leadership, no direction from any government, and the world is even more uncertain and divisive.
We are in uncharted territory and need someone or something to look to for guidance.
Our leaders are coming up short of what they should be doing, and I have no faith in my government and rely on my instincts to keep focussing on what's essential in my life and endeavour to keep perspective; that's all any of us can do.
But getting through a hard day, a week or even a month is a great leveller. It teaches us stamina and resilience, and I remind myself, my children and colleagues, will this matter a year from now?
There's a note on my desk, a reminder if you will - worry about today; tomorrow can take care of itself, which is pertinent right now.
Concern yourself with the here and now. Life is short. There isn't any point in worrying about an uncertain future, and planning is quasi-difficult right now for me. It is weekly-centred rather than longer-term planning.
I'm not a good planner, tending to process as I go along, which, with age, suits me better. I can be flexible to change things around a bit.
My planning extends as far as booking my climbs for 2024. I like to have something to look forward to.
While life is challenging, I find solace in reading and art - drawing and painting, which soothes my unease and doubt.
Yet despite world events, every day is a blessing; there's always something to be grateful for; even if we are in a challenging situation, some reflection and gratitude make a real difference.
Walking is a beautiful way to take time out to reflect and enjoy nature, quietly observing as she works, feeling the wind on my face and the cold pinch on my nose reminders that winter is on the way.
A wise sage once said the more we appreciate life, the more we get back because we're cheerful, so life is abundant.
There have been many times in my life, and more traumatic times ahead, I'm sure, when I know I won't feel this way, but age has taught me the good grace to understand, to step back, take a breath and know that difficult times won't last forever.
Luck or fortune don’t happen; it's a case of the harder you work, the luckier and more fortunate you become.
Until next time.