Got Stress?

We all endure stress.  It's just part of life, from birth on.  Even just getting out of bed is stressful on some days.  Most of the time, I do okay with stress.  I consider myself to be pretty adaptable, and most of the time I roll with it.  But there's stress, and then there's STRESS.  And by stress, I mean my stress, Larry's stress, and Zane's stress.  It seems that my role of Mom means that I am stressed by everything that stresses my loved ones out, as well. I feel that I can never be "off", because someone is always depending on me to remember something, be somewhere, etc.  I can generally refrain from trying to fix everything for everyone, but that doesn't mean that I don't suffer their stress emotionally.  If they are upset, I am upset. So what we have here is a stinkin' pile of stress.  I'm not as spry with dodging obstacles like stressors as I used to be, so I'm starting to feel it.   Lately I'm having random panic attacks, with the shakiness, the sudden sense of impending doom, the butterflies in the stomach.  This is probably a sign that I've reached the end of whatever rope is out there, but I haven't been able to take a breather just yet.  These days, although I am probably catastrophizing(I'm pretty sure that is a word, and if it's not, let's just pretend, shall we?), I feel like I'm just one step away from a complete meltdown. 

This is exactly what I look like!  Except for my hair is not as neat. 

And by meltdown, I mean the kind that gets you a trip somewhere to "rest" for a couple of months.  It's probably not a good sign that the idea of a "rest" anywhere doesn't really seem all that bad.  Somewhere where it's quiet, where I don't get interrupted every 30 seconds, where I can concentrate on a task, where I don't get guilted for not paying attention to every single thing in the world.  A place where I am not expected to drop everything that I am doing to immediately gratify the needs of people who never bother to return the favor. A place where someone else does all the cleaning and cooking.  Where someone pampers me with massages and pedicures, and I can sleep late if I want.  Where the mountain comes to me, instead of my having to go to the mountain.   Where I can walk as far as I want to, without shouldering everyone else's burdens for a time.  Yes, I know--this place doesn't exist.  I need the fantasy for a little while.

This is what I want to look like when there's stress.

I would like to be able to close my eyes, take a few deep breaths, and achieve a placid, balanced state. Like those people who practice meditation.  I am sure that it would be great for my health.  My blood pressure would be lower.  The butterflies in my stomach would just up and die.  I wouldn't be clenching my teeth all the time.  My eye would probably stop twitching.  The muscles in my neck would relax, and I might actually sleep well.  Unfortunately, I was never very good at the whole "let your thoughts go" thing. 

I do love my husband and son.  I love being a mom.  This isn't really about them--it's about me and recharging my currently depleted reserve of resiliency.  I don't want to stay at home because right now it's a big sorry mess. The piles just get away from me, and then I just stop trying.  If I thought it would help, I'd go do what my friend Jillsmo does, and go stay in a hotel for a couple of days, just to get back on a more even keel.  Or perhaps it would be better for my well-being to go hang out in a monastery or a convent, where everyone has taken a vow of silence. 

What do you guys do when you've reached the end?

Getting A Few Things Off My Chest

My brain still has not adjusted to being back at work, and we are still having computer problems, which hasn't helped. Sitting around with nothing to do(everything I need to do is on the effing computer!) gets my panties in a serious bunch. When I finally do get my computers fixed, I'll be all stressed out because I'll feel behind. Phooey.

Why do they put the most horrific colors on the underpants that they sell in packs? Why can't I just buy a three-pack of black? Men can buy packs of underpants in reasonable colors. Why do I get stuck with a florescent yellow-green pair? Do these companies know how huge my butt looks in florescent yellow-green? Who decides this? Tell me, because I want to punch them right in the face. I have enough of a complex about how I look without dealing with that!

Last week I spent a great deal of time writing for a prompt from a website, posted my link, read and commented on several of the other blogger offerings...and not ONE person from that writer's site even looked at what I had written. I've kind of felt like the kid who just doesn't fit over there, the kid who tries too hard to be accepted(OMG, I am reliving my childhood!), and this sort of sealed the deal for me. If it weren't for my virtual blog-friends(is that the right term?) commenting, I probably would have cried because I was feeling hormonal. So...I give up trying to earn their approval for my writing. If I feel like it, I'll write for the prompt. But I'm not going to stress about it, and I'm not going to spend hours reading and commenting when it's not reciprocated. Instead, I will save all my love for my regular, and beloved, readers.

Last night I tried to cook a seven-steak. I hadn't ever heard of seven-steak before; I had to go look it up to even figure out what the hell it was. I wanted to put it in the crock pot all day, but when I said something to Larry about it, he got this 'ew' look on his face, so I didn't. So I ruined it, trying to cook it on the stove. Sometimes I don't even know why I bother trying to cook at all. Even my own child would rather eat waffles! Somebody else needs to do the cooking; I feel too incompetent with a spatula. Plus I keep setting my kitchen on fire and the alarm company is probably going to start charging us extra.

And why the hell can't my gray hairs gather in one spot like Jo Beth Williams in Poltergeist? It's bad enough that I HAVE gray hairs, can't I at least look trendy or cutting edge for once?

There just isn't enough chocolate to put me in a good mood today. I hope that tomorrow is better!

This concludes the venting/whining. We now continue with your regularly scheduled programming...