Last Minute Moping (or, let's talk about stress)
There are about 3 to 5 hours buried within the day where I am running on a full battery and, on good days, full to bursting with creative and productive energy.
Lately, I would say that has dwindled to about 2 to 4 hours a day. Max. If we were in the midst of a grey midwestern winter, I would call this the Winter Blues. I do love me a-many things midwestern, but early March snow slush and cloudy skies can drive perfectly happy and healthy humans into a cave of reality tv and unbearably self indulgent journal writing. Like, even more self indulgent than blog writing.
There is no snow on the ground, friends. Right now we are in that lovely season that occurs only here in Alabama : Sminter. It is whatever the fuck happens in between October and April. Right now it is an exercise in mildness, accompanied with a fairly vocal wind this evening. It could be that the WWE smackdown Summer is currently engaged in with all other opposing seasons is starting to wear on my spirit, but I don't think that is what is dragging me down.
Clearly, it is a stress mutt. A living blend of god knows how many stress inducers that are causing me to fade as soon as the clock hits 3 pm, and totally crash by 6 pm. And here it is, 11 pm, the blogging hour, and I just want to turn on the shower, lie on the floor of the tub, while clutching a glass of wine and humming like one of the ghosts of Hill House, if that ghost happened to listened to Bat Out of Hell earlier this week.
The thing is, this would all be bearable, were it not completely wrecking my ability to stay tuned into the rest of my life. And for the past twenty minutes, all I have done is sit here on my sofa and recount every single thing that I completely forgot to attend to today.
And that is what makes stress a damn killer. It is one thing to be overwhelmed, but still on task. Many people operate this way, and operate well (until they have heart attacks at 35) - but many for so many of us, stress is like putting a plastic bag over your brain and sending it into a lamaze class. It not just that we cannot function under stress, it is that it has caused all the skills needed to operate basic functions to flicker out into darkness. I am amazed by people who excel under stress. And honestly? I am a little incredulous. Are you really stressed out? Or are you just busy? Are you working towards a goal you are confident in, one that you can be proud of and have already seen glimmers of your labor fruit? Or are you juggling a billion balls that do little more than exist to help you pick up more balls?
Are you stressing because you are struggling just to make it through the day?
Mike and I have a shaky understanding of where the camera on his phone stands in our relationship. There are times when he can take a healthy blend of hit or miss photos of me - but for the past couple of years, every picture he takes reflects a girl who just has given away all of her shits. I look tired. I look puffy faced and pale, with stringy hair and "I sold my soul for five bucks" eyes.The majority of the time, I just look like I have never even heard of a hair brush or lip gloss, and that I should just give it all up for a coat with multiple cat pockets.
|Our engagement photo, pre-photoshop.|
I will accept that this is partly because I turned in my 20 something card two years ago. But it is not like I am an "Old". I am not even middle aged! I am supposed to be at the Sexy Business Lady age, or something like that. You know what I mean? Like, Vicky Vale age - she's not a young adult, but she's young, but she's grown up... and super cool with her glasses.
But mostly, it is the damn stress. And it's that the majority of that stress is being reserved things that, ultimately, don't matter to me as far overall "life picture" goes. That is what I call for true stress. For True Stress isn't honorable, it is something caused by having your brain enslaved to an activity that is defining your life in ways that don't fit your personal definition.
There is an honorable form of stress, a cleansing sort of hot yoga stress that is self serving and wonderful in it's torture (Sexy Stress), and damn if I don't miss that kind of stress. It is one where you still feel full of your life's purpose, one where you feel full of life, not completely drained of it.
So what was the point of my bringing all of this up? There wasn't one, really. I just got caught up in reviewing all the things from today that got tossed to the wayside for less relevant tasks.
I am looking forward to change, kiddos, and a lot of it. 2016 already has a few things going for it, in that
1. It will be a brand damn new year.
2. I will have a different status, technically speaking. Same relationship, different name, and new commitments.
Come on, Sexy Stress...