Living inside outside upside down

I don’t intentionally live my life inside outside upside down. It just seems to happen. A lot. I’m insanely clumsy. I frequently do the opposite of what I’m trying to achieve. I get words round the wrong way. And I blurt out the wrong thing. To the wrong person. A lot.  

I’m the queen of banging into things. Doorways, tables, people. My peripheral vision is dreadful. Sometimes I think there’s something wrong with my whiskers. And yes I do need glasses. I’m usually wearing them at the time. I also accidentally throw objects. I’ll pick something up and rather than hold it in my hand, like any normal person, I’ll let it go mid-swing. I’ll even accidentally bat things away while trying to pick them up. And when I’m reaching into a drawer, I’ll bash my unsuspecting fingers into the side or other objects. I find yelling and swearing helps…

I’m also very good at being distracted. I have this incredible capacity to be going through the motions while thinking about something else entirely. But unlike most people who can do this quite convincingly, I stuff it up completely. I have been known to make myself a cup of tea and a cup of coffee at the same time (I wanted coffee). If I’m carrying two things, recycling and rubbish for example, I will absolutely put the wrong one in each bin. Even if I try and control my natural urges (to be completely backwards) by doing one thing at a time, I’ll still get it wrong. I’ll carry an armload of washing past the laundry and into the lounge, where I will inevitably stand blinking uncertainly for a few seconds trying to remember who I am and what I’m doing, wait for the moment of enlightenment then walk back through the house the way I just came... 

Being clumsy and distracted is apparently something you can fix. It’s considered by some as the sign of a sluggish brain. (Great.) Clumsiness and distraction are also exacerbated by stress. That’s likely in my case. I find if there’s constant low level worry in my mind, or if something big is actively bothering me, I’ll be worse than usual (and usual is bad enough). Also, unlike those who love being the centre of attention and who seriously adore the limelight, I’m far more likely to stumble over my words or even tumble down the stairs if I think anyone is looking my way. Apparently, you’re also more likely to be clumsy if you’re attempting to do too many things at once or too quickly. Again, that’s me. Developing a more mindful approach, improving memory and speeding up the brain’s reaction is apparently the key here. So maybe there is hope for the habitual daydreamer, the permanently pre-occupied and those suffering “chronic inattentiveness”.

Although I was slightly disheartened to also learn that physical clumsiness is connected with overall mental clumsiness, including what you say. In a questionnaire designed to determine the level of individual “cognitive failure” (aka clumsiness) was this question: “Do you say something and realize afterwards that it might be taken as insulting?” Well in my case that’s an absolute yes. Although it’s more like to be did you say something and realise as the words were coming out your mouth that it might be taken as insulting…

Blurting out unwelcome truths has become an unfortunate way of life. I once told a proud new mother that her designer, expensive and very impressive pram looked like a tent. I actually intended to pay her a compliment. I didn’t. On another occasion I managed to offensively tell my Japanese friend that our children playing in the park looked like Kamikaze pilots... I never EVER refer to Kamikaze pilots. Why brain, WHY?...

Ultimately, despite my many and obvious failings, I’d like to think of myself as the stylishly eccentric type. Odd but “in a good way” - managing to be off-beat and off-centre with style and panache. I’d like to think that but I’d be wotally tong. Another topsy turvey trait. Getting words the wrong way round. Transposing letters is called a Spoonerism (you can transpose the first letter or even parts of the sounds). It’s named after William Archibald Spooner. And no we don’t name people like we used to…  And if you’re wondering, like me, how on earth someone gets the surname Spooner… it comes from manufacturing or using curved roof tiles, but I gridess…

Spoonerisms can be insightful and witty. Bet you can’t say knucking fackered without snickering… but mine are usually silly and make me sound drunk, at 2 in the afternoon. I’ve always been verbally challenged. Possibly my brain’s tendency to race and my tongue’s inability to keep up. As a child I remember excitedly announcing to my friend that we were having mippie and charmite sandwiches for lunch. And on one dreadful occasion at work I accidentally referred to colleagues and Blowass and Lulia. Although that was possibly Freudian as well…

On a positive note, living inside outside and upside down is catching. And observing clumsiness in others is funny... I wasn’t the one in our house who tipped their entire plate of Bolognese into the onion bowl while reaching for the salt.  And once when my partner was trying to show empathy to one of his friends it all went its tup: everything he said came out wrong. The ultimate moment of triumph (as it wasn’t) was at the end of the call when he said “well I hope it all goes bad for you… I mean well, WELL for you…” a situation probably not helped by me lolling about with raughter as I cistened to the lall.