Life in progress

Tag Archives: stress


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Stream of Consciousness Saturday – Finding Flounder

Aside from the fact that I can’t usually find a thing I’m looking for in my house if I haven’t seen it in the previous two days (okay, that’s an exaggeration, but the frustration makes it feel that way) most of my lost things lately have been inside my own head.

Concentration. It’s what it all comes down to. Having a thousand things go through my head at once (disclaimer: this post will include many exaggerations. And by many I mean about a million or so.) is conductive to forgetting everything. For instance, twice this morning on my paper route I walked past a house I was supposed to deliver to because I have my novel in my head. A particular scene that I’ve been pondering… can’t remember now which one…

Too many people to take care of, (the last of which is ALWAYS me (exaggeration)) too little money to do all the crazy things my kids demand of me (i.e. taking the bus to the mall which costs $500 each way compared to driving the car which costs only pennies) (guess which one of those is an exaggeration. Right. The pennies one.), and where was I… Oh yeah. Not having enough time to write and edit, and read and CREATE! That’s gotta be the worst because it’s what keeps me sane. So I create in my head while I’m supposed to be doing other things. Like delivering the paper. And running red lights. And floundering around like a beached fish, gasping for air and dying… dying … dyin… dyi… d.

I’m such a drama queen this morning. Time to find some sense in it all.

 

Badge by: Doobster at Mindful Digressions

Badge by: Doobster at Mindful Digressions

This post is part of SoCS. For the prompt and everything you need to know to join in, click here! https://lindaghill.com/2014/10/03/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-october-414/


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Stream of Consciousness Saturday – Without

It doesn’t take me long to run out of resources. Energy, both physical and emotional – hell, even spiritual – seem to dry up when I get to a certain level of stress wherein I’m running around like a daddy longlegs with half of its legs pulled off by a willful child.

When I reach that limit I go blank. Nothing works. I must stop moving, I must force myself to try to stop thinking of everything at once. I have, at these times, so many thoughts in my head that I feel as though I will explode. And then I am without.

Without anything to draw from. My brain fires on the remnants of the sparks of what energy is beginning to build up again but I have no control over which way they shoot. Sometimes it’s anger, seeping from my pores like lava, and sometimes there are tears that threaten never to cease. Rarely, it’s laughter. When it is, I know I’ll be okay again soon.

Without resources I feel useless. I exist on a plane apart from the rest of society. I float (yes, I am even without gravity) an inch above the ground, always in danger of taking off. Not up, but away. If I do, I’m afraid nothing will stop me until I’m lost.

Eventually I can once again focus. But only by focusing on myself, and not all of the people who demand my attention all of the time, can I come back to me. To regain my energy, my emotions, and the spirituality that centers me and keeps me in the moment.

I need a vacation.

 

This post is part of SoCS. Find the rules here, https://lindaghill.wordpress.com/2014/05/23/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-may-2414/ and join in!


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Quantifying Stress

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.


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The Simplest Things

DSC00084

click on the photo to see the detail

It’s funny how the simplest, and sometimes the ugliest, things can be made beautiful by nature.

The frost along the edge of these dried leaves captured my attention this morning while I was outside with Alex, waiting for the school bus.

Speaking of Alex and going to school, I thought he would be staying at home today. Yesterday he came home with a little itch on his wrist. No biggie. I couldn’t see anything, and he seemed to forget about it as he got involved in things to do. Then before bed it began to itch again. I encouraged him to ignore it and just go to sleep but he wouldn’t stop scratching. He was miserable.

After listening to him whine in bed for about half an hour, I went back upstairs to see him. He was covered, head to toe, in a red, angry-looking rash. There were bumps and actual weals on his legs, some of which were five inches across. It was horrible! I gave him an anti-histamine and let him sleep on the couch where it was a little cooler.

This morning, when he woke up, he’d forgotten about it. All that was left of the rash was the scratches he inflicted on himself with his fingernails.

The cause, as well as I can theorize, was stress caused by the simple little itch he had on his wrist – which was also gone this morning.

Funny how the simplest things can take on a life of their own, when given a touch of something extra, isn’t it?


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What would you teach?

I often wish that I could teach people not to sweat the small stuff. I can’t stand watching people walk around with their minds so focused on trivial matters, that they’re unable to see the big picture.

So what if that guy just stole your parking spot? At least you didn’t have to take the bus with all your children, your strollers, and bags of groceries once you’re finished shopping. What’s the problem with getting the blue ipod when you wanted the black one? At least you have one. How does it matter that you listened to someone at the next table complain about their food? Did you enjoy yours? Then stop eavesdropping!

Don’t get me wrong – it’s not really the complaining that bothers me. If that was the problem, I would be just as bad as they are. It’s the fact that small things stress a lot of people out. Getting one’s blood pressure up, in my opinion, had better come with a whole lot of real problems. Yes, all the little ones can add up. We all have days like that. But even then, don’t dwell! It’ll put you into an early grave… and who wants to die over a chipped fingernail?

I think we all have something that we’ve learned from experience, that we wish we could give the benefit of to others so that they don’t have to learn the way we did: the hard way.

So tell me in the comments: of all your personal life lessons, what would you teach the people around you, if you could?


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Constant

Never a dull moment, they say. And here, in my life, it’s true.

I just walked into the room which houses my main household computer to find a hole in the wall. My autistic son has learned not to put his fist through the window, it seems. That was so two years ago. And now there is one more thing to add to the list of repairs on my house.

We’ve been through the behavioural training. I’ve been told over and over again to ignore the behaviour I don’t like and pay attention and praise the behaviour I wish to continue. But I can’t be with him all the time. This is what happens, apparently, when I ignore the yelling. Most of the time it actually works. Once in a while, I pay the consequences.

It’s an ongoing struggle. I’m sad to think that I might not always be able to take care of him on my own, but it’s a fact I have to face. He needs the influence of a man in his life – he’s eighteen years old. I don’t have one for him, and his father not only lives elsewhere, but that elsewhere is now hours away instead of across town where he lived up until this summer.

Sometimes I feel like I do nothing. I can spend hours some days, just writing. Other days I’m completely overwhelmed. Least of all is the stress of not knowing what’s coming next.

Such is life with an autistic child…. adult.


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9/16 – Yesterday’s News – Property Damage

I had a hard time coming up with anything inspirational in yesterday’s paper, until I decided to put my dubious organizational skills to use. A headline which reads, “Have you planned for illness?”, mashed together in my little brain with a picture I took the other day, gave me the following idea:

What do you do when part of a tree collides with your house?

Property damage

Are you a natural born handyman/handywoman?

Handyman

…handyspider?

Owning a home is great, but the number of things that can go wrong is spectacular. If you’re like me (single and totally inept when it comes to anything more complicated than taking out the garbage) then you have to pay someone to fix anything that goes wrong. And when the boiler starts to leak all over your basement floor? (Hint: the water is supposed to stay inside the system.) You spend the next six years paying for a new one, like I am.

Easy to squash or not, there’s something to be said for being a squatter, like my little eight-legged architect/do-it-yourselfer.