Category: stress (Page 3 of 5)

….then the oxygen masks will drop from the overhead compartment…….

It’s been a stressful week, and I’ve lost my temper two days in a row. Once while loading the office dishwasher, which was somewhat satisfying because I just spluttered at cups and had the joy of slamming the door shut.  I told JWo last night I haven’t felt this angry since I went through the “Rage Stage” of grief, when drivers throughout the metro area should have felt lucky I did not select the Murano-mounted rocket launcher, because I would have destroyed everything in my path.

Today was actually better. Since I can string enough words together without foaming at the corners of my mouth. Apart from meetings going too long, still – but I’ve discovered blocking out time for myself to actually do the work that needs to get done? Brilliant. It won’t always work, and I’ll also forget to do it, but at least the act of doing it this week is self-preservation.

The other part of that standard patter you hear from the flight crew, about how the bag may not inflate, even though oxygen will be flowing? And that you should always secure your own mask before assisting a child or companion with theirs? Yeah. That’s actually a really kick-ass metaphor for how you have to take care of YOURSELF FIRST if you’re going to be any good to someone else. I’m thinking about my friend Carmen, as she cares for her ailing mom, and how she’s putting everything else before taking care of herself, and that was the image that came into my head. Those hello-yellow cups we all hope we never have to pop over our nose and mouth (tightening the elastic, of course. I do know all the steps.) And we have to be reminded to do this, because our instinct is always to help a small child, or ailing parent, or someone else who needs something right now, but meanwhile, we deprive ourselves of very necessary oxygen in the process.

So that’s it. Breathe in, breathe out, and take care of self first, so you can survive and make it through tomorrow! That’s what I’ll be doing. With my tray table in the locked & upright position. And several empty bottles of Bombay Sapphire scattered on the seat next to me….

I am having a day.
Correction.
A DAY.

I would like to play the chorus to this song over and over and over and over. If I could whip out my :38 special and cash register to play along at home, I would. Alas, I don’t have either. Just a desire to scream.

KERPLOW! KERPLOW KERPLOW KERPLOW Ka-CHING!

Carry on.

Sometimes I find myself thinking about topics for my blog, and I hear the old adage, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, say nothing at all.” It’s a good one, but I’m not known for muzzling myself well, nor biting my tongue.

That said, I’m not writing about every irritant, and instead chalking things up to the full moon, and a general swirl in general of low consumer confidence and a depressed economy with soaring gas & corn prices. It’s pretty easy to just skip right along to Armageddon if you think about much of anything too long. Everyone I know is (pick one or more): stressed, irritable, on edge, depressed, angry, morose, unreasonable, bitchy, dissatisfied and probably a lot of other lovely adverbs. In the past week I’ve been cranky, irritated, frustrated, and I just responded to my co-worker’s question if I wanted anything from Latte Land with, “A new attitude?” She’s so sweet, she said I didn’t need a new one. She is, however, a programmer, so maybe I can get her developing Attitude 2.0?

So on my drive this morning I decided I could be grateful I don’t live in Kabul. Or Cedar Rapids. I can be happy that I don’t have a 50-mile commute. I am not panicked about paying my bills, and even if they drive us crazy, we have three healthy, lively dogs. Life is pretty good, in fact. I wish the country could collectively shake it off, that things would stabilize and it wouldn’t feel like someone was cranking on the Winch of Life so vigorously.

This too shall pass, and even though sometimes (right now) it makes me cry to remember his words, as my father said in almost every phone call before he died, “It will all be ok.” I marvel at how a man of little faith could instill it so heartily in me.

Deep breath. Exhale. Believe.