Stress...It's a Funny Thing

Trying to find an exact definition of the word 'stress' is, in itself, a stressful thing.  I found 'symptoms of', 'relief for' and 'preventative measures'.  But nowhere does it say, "Stress is X". 

I stumbled across a half-assed attempt to define the word on Wikipedia (the go-to source for all things) and it states "Stress is a term that is commonly used today but has become increasingly difficult to define."  No crap.  I could have written that.  In fact, I do believe I did.

I can tell you from experience the symptoms of stress: hair loss, migraine, sleepless nights, spontaneous bouts of sobbing in your office while banging your head on your desk.  I can tell you some of the causes of stress: work, lack of money, lack of sufficient amount of time to get everything done...a two-year-old boy.

I would even go so far as to say I could regurgitate some advice from medical experts on how to prevent stress in your life.  Last week our Human Resources Director sent some tips on avoiding stress.  Number one?  Take a deep breath and evaluate the situation.  Well, that advice could be given for anything.  Say, for instance, you're drunk on a bar stool and you're contemplating having another alcoholic beverage...take a deep breath and evaluate the situation...or take a deep breath into Mr. Policeman's breath-a-lizer.

Take a moment and walk away from a situation.  That's another gem of advice.  Sometimes, though, when I feel the nondescript signs of stress, I CAN'T walk away from the situation.  The end result would cause me more stress.

So here's my definition of stress - an intangible sensation of pain that consumes the entire body.  First attacking the brain, followed by all body parts from head to toe.  There is no absolute cure for stress.  There's no pill that can be consumed, beach that can be visited or hitman to take care of all of the stupid people in the world that cause you the intangible sensation of pain. 

Sure, I have learned not to sweat the small stuff, or the big stuff.   But, I still sweat.  And you know what they have for that?  Antiperspirant - Deodorant.

Moving to the Beat of My Special Little Drum

Anyone who has ever moved knows the chaos that is involved.  Anyone who has ever moved an entire housefull of stuff, along with a child and two dogs knows that a stay at the insane asylum is not unrealistic.  Anyone who has attempted the aforementioned move across multiple states while in the midst of a recession has probably already booked and been a resident at the mental institution of their insurance company's choosing.

That is where I am at.

My family is moving.  Moving out of state.  Moving on.  Moving ahead.  Moving.

I'd like to say that we're organized.  We are on track.  We are checking things off of our to-do list and abiding by timelines set forth by --- me.  But, 'I can not tell a lie'.  Even the best laid plans have some cracks in their foundations.

Being the Type A personality that I am (the fun, sarcastic type), I made a project plan.  I made assignment lists, packing lists, mental notes of who we need to contact and when.  Then an itty-bitty needle got thrown into the haystack of our lives and the plan needed to change.  Not only changed, but expedited.  Whereas I thought I had two full months to get ready for the move...I now have one.

One month to put new flooring down, to paint crayon and fingerprint-covered walls, to put the house on the market, to find a new house in a new city, to find a new job...to finish my current job.

Now, us Type A personalities love stress.  We thrive on it.  As a journalist, I love deadlines.  I love chaos.  But COME ON!!!  There are too many things to do and not enough resources in the world to help in such a short amount of time.  Oh, and throw getting tooth-work done on top and it's like throwing a cherry on top of a melted ice cream sundae.

Some may ask, "If you're so busy Monica, why do you have time to blog?"  That's a fair and valid question.  And my answer is a simple one:  If I didn't take the time out to do what I love (write, not bitch), then I wouldn't just go insane, I'd go criminally insane.  And quite frankly, I don't have time to do time in the slammer.

Rest assured, I have a new plan in place and it goes something like this.  My family is moving.  Moving out of state.  Moving on.  Moving ahead.  Moving. 

See?  I've got a lot accomplished.  The beginning and end have already been done.  The middle has yet to be written.

Ghetto vs. Trailer Park...Showdown at the Superstore!

The action never seems to stop at my beloved local Superstore. I've experienced rude customer service, angry workers, bruised apples...but last night's visit to the decrepit store in which I've come to rely really takes the cake!

I'm in the self-checkout lane (I still haven't learned my lesson) when I saw two young girls approach me. As they inched up on me, I felt the need to protect my place in line. I could tell they were ready to bolt for the next available scanner.

But then, I heard their mother calling for them to 'wait up'. She was a good 10 feet away and I had assumed the girls backed off. Apparently I was mistaken, as was another patron.

"Did you just f'n cut in front of my kid? How could you cut in front of my kid?"

I heard the scream clear as a bell seeing as this distraught mother was inches behind me.

"No, I didn't f'n cut in front of your kid. She was with YOU. Don't make me go ghetto on your ass. I'm from the ghetto and I will go ghetto on your ass."

I stifled my chuckles...too intrigued with the level of ignorancy at this place.

"Did you just threaten me? You have a baby in your cart and your threatening me?"

"So what? You have three kids with you and YOU'RE threatening me. You'd better back off bitch."

As I picked up my scanning pace, I looked over to the Superstore employee. Nothing. No reaction. Perhaps it was just another day at work for her.

I quickly ran my credit card and exited the building in time to hear (finally) "Security to lane 1. Security to lane 1"

As the sun was setting on my white-trash town, I hurried as quick as I could to my car. Unloading my groceries I heard the sirens. They got closer and closer. Next thing I knew the cops were pulling up to the front of the store.

It should be mentioned that as the women were shouting at each other (and their kids were crying from embarrassment) they continued scanning their items right next to each other. That takes talent.

It's hard enough for me to figure out what I'm scanning - I have 'Look Up Item' memorized. But to do it while screaming at someone in front of or behind you is pure talent (or insanity).

In hindsight, I wish I would have stuck around. I wish I could report on the outcome. I don't know who won the battle, but I fear the Ghetto vs. Trailer Park war wages on. (and I just can't wait to stop at the store tonight!!)

Happy 2012 and a half...

First of all, let me apologize to all of my (2) fans for not blogging on a more regular basis. Almost an entire year has gone by and in those 365 days, I can assure you that at least 365 outrageous, ridiculous, hilarious or moronic things have happened. I pledge to you, my avid followers (who have nothing better to do than to read various rants on the Internet), to be more consistent in my blogging and to continue to sprinkle a little sense of humor on top of the crap-cake that is life.

In a year's time, I have adopted a son and have weathered numerous storms on the job front. I have endured two strikes from employees, two bouts with pneumonia and the fun that is potty-training a two-year-old. I would like to say I've come out stronger. If the mentally insane are stronger than the sane, then yes I have.

The 'funny' thing is, I love my life - as crazy as it is. I love my husband. I love my son. I love my two four-legged children and...I love my job. But, what I love most is going home to my husband, son and furry, canine companions at the end of a workday. They put everything into perspective. They remind me that though the world is filled with idiots who hang voo-doo dolls of me on picket signs, I am loved unconditionally. They make crabby mom into happy mom.

If only everyone was fortunate enough to love and be loved. The people who lash out, who scowl, who not only try to throw you under the bus - but proceed to get in the driver's seat and run you over, who yell and scream and throw a temper tantrum to rival my two-year-old's, are the people who hate their life.

We've heard the mantra, 'don't sweat the small stuff'. But, people shouldn't really sweat the big stuff either. Everything happens for a reason and a reason can be made for everything. Financial worries? Cut back on the non-essentials until you've saved enough to indulge again. Family issues? Let the storm pass and be the one to extend the olive branch. Ignorant boss? Let him/her continue to be ignorant and true colors will shine. You never know, you may get a much-deserved promotion.

At the risk of sounding preachy, I can admit that I have not practiced what I am preaching very well this past year. While I'm financially sound, happy with my Stoneking family and have become immune to ignorant people...I do internalize my thoughts and feelings - until I decide to blog about them.

What I have learned - thank you therapy sessions - is that continued internalization of stress and anxiety can lead to chronic health issues or...jail. Not that I've committed a crime, but I am becoming more empathetic to those who go on a bender and stand at the top of a bell tower threatening bodily harm. But the fact is, stupid people do exist. If we let their stupidity affect our health, our well-being, then they have won. So, in the battle of smart versus stupid...let's all work together to help smart win.