I am Woman - Stress Management

 

It's taken till I'm in my 40's, but I think I am starting to understand my personal patterns with stress.  

Infection

Why does my stress build to an unmanageable level?

Well, there are people who run every day and get rid of all the stress they have pent up.  If they've had a bad day, they run more miles.  I admire them, but I'm not like that. 

Exercise works for me to a certain extent, but not all the way.

My theory is this...

When we are kids and we  fall down, or something upsets or frustrates us, we cry.  We let it out, there and then.  Two minutes of bawling at high volume, a hug from Mommy or Daddy, and it's all over.

First, as adults, we can't just burst into tears when we're frustrated in a meeting (more's the pity).  And so all the minor frustrations, humiliations and real hurt we sometimes feel at what someone says or does are stored inside.  

For me, this builds.

Second, as adults, there is no mommy to hug us.  Yes, you have your spouse or partner or friends, but it's not the same.  When you are a child, your adult hugging you is a big force - both physical and emotional.  The adults take care of everything.  

Now that you are an adult, a hug is comforting, but temporary.  There's comfort, but no solution.  When that person pulls away from you, the problem remains yours to solve.

Third, there's physical fatigue.  Busy weekends, lots of gym sessions or yoga classes, long walks with the dogs, lots of socializing.  I get tired, plain and simple.  But I have to keep going, because work is still there, the dogs don't walk themselves, and I have to burn those calories.

And so, slowly but surely, I get infected.  Stress and fatigue build inside me to a poisonous level.

The molten rock builds inside the volcano, increasing the pressure, and the physical fatigue weakens the lid on the volcano until finally, it all has to come out...

Catharsis

If I recognize it in time, I take time out to allow a Catharsis.

I have let it out, and it's very helpful if I cry.

Hence the Chick Flick Crying Trick.  

There's nothing like a night alone at home with the dogs and a DVD that my husband wouldn't be able to sit through.  The lamer the tug at the heartstrings, the better.  

Postcards from the Edge, Beaches, The Hours, Away from Her, Marley and Me, The Notebook - all excellent Catharsis movies.

But, sadly, I don't always feel the seismic movements in the volcano...

Mis-Diagnosis

In my busy life - as busy as any normal person's - I often don't realize how stressed or tired I am.

Sometimes I am too deep in Mis-diagnosis to force Catharsis.

I am an intelligent, capable, energetic woman, and I believe that I can handle anything that's thrown at me, and I do.

I forget: 

• Being at a networking meeting where you don't know anyone is stressful
• Going to brunch with new friends, and not being sure if they'll like you and your spouse as much as you like them, is stressful
• Presenting in a meeting is stressful
• Questioning the decisions made on a project that you think is heading in the wrong direction, without demotivating your colleagues, is stressful
• The weekend packed with activities, parties, chores, is stressful
• Hell, even meeting the CIO in the elevator and making intelligent small talk is stressful.

And so, as the molten rock in the volcano starts to move and flex, I don't feel it, and now we're headed to an unplanned eruption...

Paralysis

It all comes to a head when, because my brain won't stop, my body stops for me.

Simply put, I get sick.

A cold, usually, or a migraine.

In this, I now realize, I am my father's daughter.

As a child, I remember his car coming up the driveway earlier than scheduled on a weekday.  The tension in the house would be palpable:  Daddy was home with a migraine.  

Mess was hurriedly cleared so that nothing would annoy him on his direct trip from the back door to my parent's bedroom.  There had to be quiet in the house for the evening.  Thank God the TV room was the other side of the house, or it would have been a real downer.

Now that I go through what he did, I wonder if he, too, had to cry.

After the eruption, there's that eerie silence, as the ash falls, and now it's time to...

Healing

As pathetic as it is, it takes all this to make me actually take time to really stop.  Stop moving, stop thinking, stop doing.  

To just sit, to not think, to not plan or write lists, to not do laundry or housework, to not go shopping or to the gym or have lunch with a friend.

To just rest.  To heal.

Di-section

Let me share an example of how this might play out.

Stress had been building in my new job.  Not nearly as badly as in my old one but, this will give you a sense of what's been getting to me.

So yesterday I start to get a headache.  It's a perfect storm of four hours in a windowless training room under neon lights, not having enough to eat at lunch, and my post nasal drip running like a tap because I can't afford to buy the most effective hay fever medicine with my new healthcare plan.

Training is supposed to end at 5pm, and I have to leave at 4:30.  I make some lame excuse about a meeting and head out.  At the bus stop, it takes at least 15 minutes for the bus to arrive.  I get on, and there's a child on the bus.  He is crying, wailing ("Honeeeee, use your wooooords!" his ineffectual mother whined), then nasally conversing with her, describing everything he sees.  

His talking is not the problem.  He's a child, after all.  It's the volume.  The child's voice is so loud and piercing, classical music on my iPod can't drown him out.  By this stage, the light is starting to hurt my eyes.  I get three quarters of the way home and have to get off the bus.  

My husband comes to get me and I'm starting to get nauseous.  As I put my head back against the headrest in the car, I feel light-headed.

Back home, I take pills and try to sleep.  The dogs are amazing, cuddling, licking and spooning me - the perfect cure to any illness.

Paralysis sets in - I am in bed, lying still, forced to stop.

This morning I wake up and I've had a dream where I was at a wedding.  It was the wedding of my childhood BFF, Ellen's little sister.  The reception is huge and I recognize all sorts of people I went to school with - random people who are not really friends.

As the wedding ends, I stop to talk to Ellen and ask how her mom is doing with such a huge wedding.  I realize I have hardly spent any time with Ellen at the wedding and I feel bad.

When I wake up, I remember that Ellen is dead, and that I had to speak at her funeral.

And that is when Catharsis comes, and I cry and cry and cry.

Then the puppies come and lick my face and I feel better.

And so we move to Healing through rest, which today will involve cuddling my dogs, sitting on the couch and watching bad comedies.  

It's going to be a good day. 

To read more in the I am Woman Series, click here. 

Comments

[Jeff Roney]

Very cool site. I will be back.

Jeff from http://menaredumb.info

[Ittybittycrazy]

Checked out your blog, and I like it too! Good to get a hubby's perspective!