Stress is something everyone feels, if not on occasion, then constantly. Though we’re all different, and there are certain things or combinations of things in our lives which cause it, it has approximately the same effect on us all.

It raises our blood pressure, causes in us either adrenaline or exhaustion, usually one on the heels of the other. It does wondrous things to our bodies – gives us headaches, makes our skin break out in rashes and can give us pain where we didn’t think it was possible to have it.

But. There’s always a but. Stress is invisible. It can’t be counted; it can only be felt. It can only be seen by the ripping out of one’s hair and the stomping about of one’s feet, or the squealing of one’s wheels on dry pavement. Explaining it is near impossible to someone who doesn’t understand how much we’re under.

There are scales for pain: you can see them hanging on hospital walls. But what if there was such a thing as a stress scale? How would it look?

On a scale from one to ten, for myself, one would show a picture of me banging my shin against the foot of my spare bed, that has been out to get me since I inherited said bed with the house I’m living in.

Three would be the bed plus dropping everything I touch in the space of fifteen minutes. I have days like that.

Five might be getting in the car and turning the key to a click instead of the firing of pistons when I have an appointment to get to.

Seven to eight is being interrupted ten minutes after I sit down to write, and I just have my head in whatever I’m trying to concentrate on… eight being the fifth time in as many minutes.

But ten? Ten is having my son tell me he’s tired and putting my ear to his chest to find that his heart is in arrhythmia, going 90 beats per minute for a few beats, and then down to 30 for a few and back again. Adds up to a decent 60bpm, but there’s still the question, do I take him to the hospital or not? I’m alone with two kids, neither of whom can be left alone. This is where my stress level was two nights ago.

And so I thought, maybe I should make up a scale for my family so they know when not to push my buttons. Because no one wants to get in the line of fire when I’m reaching five, let alone ten.

What do you think – not for me, but for yourself? Might a stress scale lessen the number of stress-induced conflicts in your home? Something to consider, I think.