Dr John Smith: Of molehills and mountains

So this week or two I have had a few things to contend with and everything else goes out of the window, says Dr John
So this week or two I have had a few things to contend with and everything else goes out of the window, says Dr John
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I look forward to sitting down and writing this column but this week I very nearly forgot. Sorry!

Life, or what is now popularly called “stuff” gets in the way. It is not simply being too busy when it is easy to forget, but personal worries and anxieties can and do occupy the mind, blocking out almost everything else.

So this week or two I have had a few things to contend with and everything else goes out of the window.

Nothing major, others have far worse to contend with. Relationships coming to an end, serious illness, unemployment, delayed disability benefits or sanctions, money worries. Up they come like molehills in the garden ruining the landscape of our lives. But they are molehills not mountains, they can get out of proportion. It is easy to feel that you are losing control and you will lose it forever but that need not be the case.

When troubles strike, step back a few places, try and look at the bigger picture. Find a good friend who will give you time and listen dispassionately, who above all will not judge or be too hasty with recommendations. Solutions can be found but should never be rushed, too much speed and the answer can become part of the problem.

There may be some of you who feel you have no one to listen to you. Don’t forget there is the Citizens’ Advice Bureau, the churches, the Samaritans and the Salvation Army. Do not be alone.

This is serious talk about serious stuff so can I lighten our mood by going back to molehills. It may not be the right word but there appears to be an epidemic. We have them for the first time, there is a front garden in Kettering where the lawn has at least 20. The parkland in Cranford behind the village hall has hundreds and hundreds.

There is either one busy mole burrowing all over the countryside or, more likely, hundreds, if not thousands of them, enjoying life underground. Long live Mr Mole!