Category Archives: stress

It’s all over

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My dad was a staunch believer in always giving 100 percent effort.  His mantra played over and over in my head every time I wrote a test in school and every time I had to put any form of exertion into a task.

Somewhere along my journey through this life, that chant of success began to increase in volume and unwittingly seeped into every other aspect of my life.  Sometimes it felt good and other times it felt more like punishment.

I began to take most things to a new level.  And going overboard on simple achievements was just the beginning.  Realizing I couldn’t attain perfection led me into a pattern of over-eating.

When the over-eating became much more noticeable, I began to over-analyze and over-think everything about the problem instead of just recognizing it for what it was and dealing with it head on.

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Of all the things I do with the utmost intensity, over-thinking is the worst of them.  I cannot seem to let what will be just be.  My brain configures numerous scenarios, all with different outcomes, and will not stop when it should be satisfied.  There is always another possibility.  This is a fantastic gift to have when I am writing fiction but, when it comes to creating plot lines based on my reality, it is a detriment to normal productivity.

I expend a great effort each day to quell those thoughts.  I could take an issue so benign and have it twisted into something so distorted from its original form that it becomes a gnarled version of what it once was and something so far removed from what it ever should be.  If I could ever transfer these thoughts to pages of a novel, it would be quite the story.

For now, I will wait out the current situation that has me over-thinking.  I will listen to those little voices as they churn out ending after ending but when I reach the point that I eventually find out what will really happen, the wait will be over.

 

 

 

 

Has anyone seen my patience? I seem to have lost it.

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I used to be a very patient person.  I was never fidgety while waiting in a line.  I knew my turn would come eventually and I was okay with that.

As the years have passed, I now understand where my mother was coming from when she used to say  “my patience is wearing thin”.  Perhaps it is somehow a right of passage that we are less apt to wait today than we may have been a couple of decades ago.  My patience these days resembles something like the onion-skin paper we used to trace pictures when we were in high school.

There are still moments when I am okay to wait, moments that are fleeting and that I know will pass relatively quickly.  But I am currently caught in a circumstance where I feel completely helpless and have no choice but to sit back and wait for information to come to me.  I feel horribly powerless and that is not a feeling I am accustomed to experiencing.

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It’s hard to let go.  It’s difficult to convince myself that things are going well at the other end when my imagination continues to conjure hundreds of possible scenarios.  And my lack of patience only fuels the fire of anxiety as I am forced to bide my time until I get some news.

Until then, I shall consume myself with projects to try to keep myself busy enough so I can quell the even more impatient creative writers in my head.  My own restlessness is hard enough to deal with….they will make this waiting period intolerable.

 

 

They usually mean well…..

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People do strange things when they are under stress.  In the worst case scenario, their judgement is clouded and their choices are made without the benefit of having time to weigh the pros and cons to be able to formulate an informed decision.

On the odd occasion, people have very good intentions but they have terrible execution.  Although they may have a reasonable amount of time to assess a situation, their emotions cloud their abilities to think clearly and they make bad choices.  Their objective becomes distorted and they lose sight of the most important part of the predicament with which they are faced.  It is a simple human error and one that could be so easily avoided.

Conversation is the backbone of any relationship and honesty is the tissue that protects that backbone.  With neither of those things, human affinities will never have the strength to stand on their own.  There is much to be said for direct communication.  And, even if the exchange of information is uncomfortable, it is a necessary tool to build a strong foundation of trust and understanding.

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For the most part, people do mean well.  There are moments when they lose themselves in trying desperately to find a solution without first understanding the entirety of the situation.  Their concern impairs their objectivity and they believe that they are acting in the best way possible.  But sometimes, they just need to take a moment to breathe – to step back and think to themselves “how would I want  someone to react if I were in that situation?”.   And just maybe that one small step backwards will take them leaps and bounds ahead of where they were.

 

 

 

 

 

Holding on to strength

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“Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow, it empties today of its strength.”
― Corrie Ten Boom

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It is easy to tell someone not to worry.  I am guilty of doing that very thing on an extremely frequent basis and in many different circumstances.  Recently, I have become much more aware of how redundant that statement can be and how little it does to alleviate the concern of the person doing the worrying.

Worry is a big part of the human condition.  We spend countless hours stressing about the things we cannot foresee, cannot control and cannot change.  We are designed to be thinkers, to be problem-solvers, and in those brief moments that we are left without an answer or a contingency plan we submerge under the waves of the unknown.

For as much as I try to not unsettle myself with things out of my control, today was a glaring reminder of how quickly worry can overtake us and truly drain us of our strength.  There is a small path in the carpet in my office where I paced back and forth.  There is an emptiness in my stomach where nourishment should have found its place, but didn’t.  And there is a dull ache in my temple from the inescapable habit of clenching my jaw when I am apprehensive.

Today worry was the cat and I was the feeble mouse.  I was victim to its cunning and could do nothing more than to hide in the metaphorical corner and play dead, hoping that the insidious predator would leave me alone.

Now I sit, writing this post with a slightly more peaceful feeling than I had earlier today.  Worry still beckons, the concerns of tomorrow still evident, but it holds much less power now than it did earlier today.  I have regained some of my tenacity so I can face tomorrow with a new courage.

Worry may be strong but I am stronger.

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image credit: Worry by Zdralea Ioana – http://www.fineartamerica.com

The things that make us laugh the most

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toaster oven

“I do love my toaster oven though.  That’s what you need down there – heat up the meat and then toast your bun.” ~ SN

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That innocuous statement may seem like the least funny line you could ever imagine, confusing even if you have no context of conversation to be able to attach to that simple phrase.  But last night, that innocent message took a turn down an interesting path and led us on a journey of uncontrollable laughter in the wee hours of the morning.

What started as a discussion about a late-night kitchen raid slowly morphed into something much more amusing after I texted the above line.  It seemed to hover in cyberspace, not realizing it was soon to become the cause of a 45 minute fit of muscle spasms and tears of epic comical proportion.

He broke first.  I didn’t initially see the humour in it but, as he texted it back to me over and over and continued to laugh, I could swear I heard the faint echo of his laughter in my head.  Eventually I began to giggle because thinking of him finding such a sincere comment so funny made that comment start to seem funny to me too.  Soon the two of us had fallen over the brink and we, in our separate houses in the darkness of the early morning, laughed like idiots for almost an hour.

My ribs ached, my stomach muscles felt like they had begun to seize and my sleeve was soaked with tears that would not stop staining my cheeks and my pillowcase.  But at the end of suffering through the side effects of our mutual breakdown, I felt wonderful.  That silly string of words had made us both laugh harder than either of us have laughed in years.  It made us temporarily blind to all of the life outside of that moment, allowing us to truly enjoy an escape from reality that will forever be a memory we will both treasure.

Sometimes the things that aren’t funny really do make us laugh the most.  And if you can share that laughter with the right person, for a brief period of time, the rest of the world ceases to exist.

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When a wish really comes true

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My last post seemed to send an abundant amount of energy into the ethers.  I awoke with a very sore throat and headache the morning following the post about Newton’s laws and found my health steadily declining throughout the morning.  My energy was sapped, I was, in fact, lethargic, and my legs felt like lead as they slowly carried me to my car after I was told to go home and have a nap.

I crawled into bed at just before 2:00 pm with an alarm set to call in to work to let them know how I was.  My physical situation at 4:30 pm was no better so I was told to stay home and rest.  I don’t think any of us had a clue what that really meant.  My exhaustion was so far advanced that I actually slept for 24 hours!

Newton was correct in his theory that an object at rest tends to remain at rest.  There were a few times I became partially conscious, only to realize my dog was three inches from my face.  She was undoubtedly checking to see if I was still breathing and, once she ascertained my level of cognizance, asked me to let her out.  With a few breaks during that 24-hour period for bathroom trips for myself and my dog, I finally really awoke at 2:40 pm the next day.

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Had I known the power of a wish in the Blogosphere could be granted so quickly, I may have rethought my wish for a lottery win instead of a 24-hour mini-coma.  At least I feel much more rested….and there is always a wish for the next lottery draw if anyone up there is still listening!!

 

 

 

 

Sailing into a storm

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I felt it.

Like the prickling of goosebumps,

I sensed the energy was different yesterday.

There were no warnings,

there was no black cloud in the sky,

but the winds of my day shifted

and my boat pitched on the stormy sea of Sunday.

Waves threatened to pull me into the angry water

but I held fast to my rudder

trying to steer myself to the calmness in the distance.

 Energy that surrounded me

knocked the hull of my sanctity

sending me further off my course.

When I finally reached the safe shore of my home,

the voyage of my day settled.

The wind no longer pushed me away from myself

and my calm found me again,

settled in for the night

and lulled me back into happiness.

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You can take the city out of the girl AND you can definitely take this girl out of the city

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As my car edged closer to the core of the city, my pulse quickened and beads of perspiration formed on my forehead.  My hands became clammy and my body began to violently reject the smog it was forced to inhale.  I had entered my nightmare.

Although I had planned well for my entry into the bustling metropolis, I had failed to mentally prepare for the barrage of overwhelming stimuli while simultaneously maneuvering my car through the streets of Toronto.  I had meticulously drawn my route to the convention centre and arrived without incident.  Fleeing the scene of the trade show, however, was an entirely different story.

I should premise this paragraph with the fact that I drive a manual transmission – a gross error in judgement when driving in an urban area. The “quiet” side street that I used to enter the underground parking was a mere memory.  The exit, entering into the maelstrom of the end-of-the-day foot traffic, was a seriously steeply-graded hill and one infused with pedestrians.  Once I had made it successfully to the top and had not made contact with any bumpers or human body parts, I was dumped into the middle of Front Street, not only in rush hour traffic, but in the hour leading up to a major league baseball game.  The pavement was a sea of relatively happy people on their way to a Blue Jays game and I was trying to regain feeling in my leg after trying not to roll back into the car behind me or plow through the pedestrians in front of me.

My calf muscle argued vehemently about the constant clutch action but I continued along the somewhat familiar route searching for the much calmer side street I had used that morning.  I put my signal on, anticipating the upcoming turn and trying to change lanes, and was met with a few honks and dirty looks.  City drivers tend to have no patience for people who have not mastered the art of “offensive driving” and are unsure of where they are going.

After what seemed like a lifetime, I made it through the winding avenues to the much more forgiving expressway.  My heart beat quieted slightly and I no longer felt like I would spontaneously combust.  It was  not until I was comfortably North of the city limits and could see parts of the Precambrian Shield that I felt like I could relax and enjoy the journey home.

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Next time, if there is a next time, I will be smart and reap the benefit of public transit to get to my destination.  My blood pressure and my calf muscles will thank me.

 

 

 

Uncovering the wrong letter in the word team

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When you work with people for a significant amount of time, you not only become a real team but, you become friends.  You get to know the nuances of each team members character and you learn to blend your strengths with theirs.  They help to balance your weakness and you do the same for them.  It becomes an unspoken rule that you have each others’ back and treat each other with the utmost respect because you have developed a real bond at your job.

But, unfortunately, teams change.  Members of the group that you have come to know and admire often move on causing the dynamic in the team to become drastically altered.  People tend to cling to the familiar faces expecting them to be their closest allies but that is not always the case.   The feeling of working together suddenly changes and it now feels like you are working for the team and not with the team.

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When the faces of the group are substantially different, there is usually a member of the original group that will try to use that reality to their advantage.  Any allegiance that existed has been replaced by their valiant effort to get ahead and shine brighter than the other employees.  They insinuate themselves into the role of the “a-hole” and become the only “i” in the word team.

I have met many of these “i” people.  Usually the ones who had assumed this new identity shocked and disappointed me.  We had worked well together but when the opportunity of advancement presented itself they didn’t think twice about using me as a wrung on the ladder of their ultimate success.

I’m happy I was able to move beyond those people.  I didn’t dwell on their negative traits but focused solely on my positive traits and moved forward.  I chose to enjoy the hours I spend at work with a new team that appreciated my contributions.  I chose to be a part of a group where I could thrive and where my efforts would not be a stepping stone for that one person who didn’t know how to properly define or spell the word team.

 

Of Mice and Men in the attic – fiction

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attic

After hearing the word mispronounced, with the emphasis on the wrong syllable, she had an idea of what to do with the wretched people who would not allow her solace.  Fanatic – indeed they were.  They camped out in her driveway, followed her everywhere but, one by one, they became smaller in numbers.  Her “fan-attic”, mind you, was becoming rather full.  She hoped the smell would dissipate.

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66 Word Micro-Fiction written for the Chimera Challenge at Grammar Ghoul Press.  This week’s challenge is to write a piece using the word ‘Fanatic’ – noun – a person with an extreme and uncritical enthusiasm or zeal.  (image credit)

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