Stress

January 23, 2008

I have an inability to recognize when I am overly stressed.  I have always had this inability.  I will break down and wonder why.  Only then will I take stock of what is going on and realize why I lost it.  I will snap, be irritable, be moody and not recognize the genesis.  Well, kids, we’re here.  I am to a limit.  I have been at my limit off and on for the past few months and it’s no fun, the crying the snappishness, the acne.  I’m ready for it to be done these stressors in my life.  I know they will be replaced by others and in the grand scheme of things many, many people go through much worse and handle it much better.

Things have gotten better but it’s still somewhat of an easy push to reach the limit.  And the end, it is in sight, at least for this round.  I am very fortunate to have the love and support of so many people.  They are always there for me when I reach my limit.  They are always there to point out the load I have when I am unable to allow myself to think it’s really that much.  Maybe I can’t handle a lot but it is mine and I react how I do.  I can take what I am able.

Things will lighten up.  Tomorrow, after some sleep and a cup of coffee I will feel better.  I will.

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I’m getting weepy in my old age. When I was younger I never cried. I could watch the schmaltziest of Lifetime movies and not a tear would be shed. The exception, of course, was animal movies. I always cried in animal movies and so began my avoidance of all movies with an animal as a main character. I know their game, at some point the poor little feller will get hurt or die or be told to, “just go away. I don’t love you anymore.” With tears rolling down Timmy’s cheek as he shoves his beloved dog away. Nope. No animal movies for me. They’re so manipulative. But I digress.

I never cried during movies or in real life all that much. I cried out of frustration more than sadness or happiness, real or of the silver screen variety. But now, Dear lord, now I cry at commercials. Oh and forget it if there’s a death scene involving a poignant moment between a husband and wife – I’m a goner. My throat is tightening up just thinking about it. I watched Bicentennial Man last night. Okay I know this movie sucks and Asimov is rolling over in his grave at the mere mention of it but I’m ridiculously addicted to this movie. It started in 2001 when I was out of work and began watching TV at all hours of the night. I think I saw this Robin Williams vehicle four times in two days. Well, I watched the end of it yesterday and teared up at the end, just like every single time I’ve seen it. I tried very hard to hide my emotions from my husband because, seriously, crying at a Robin Williams movie, not something to necessarily be proud of (unless of course you’re talking about Awakenings and then I’ll cut you some slack).

I won’t even get into scenes of some magnitude between parent and child. Again, I’m a goner if that happens. A death scene or a one-of-us-is-so-misunderstood-but-I’m-going-stand-by-your-side scene, bawling. What happened to me? I used to be such a tough girl, I was a rock, I was an island. No more. Dear lord you just have to say “ice sculpture” and I get choked up. I guess I’ve thrown off the callousness of youth and am entering the soft underbelly of middle age.

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