For as long as I can remember I have had issues handling one aspect of my life, stress.
PSATs (yes, the practice exam), homework assignments, essays and now bills, stress has always hit me … hard. In high school I would wake up in the middle of the night before a large exam my chest covered in red, itchy, burning hives. As I got older stress took a toll on my GI track — and in all TMI honesty, it still does from time-to-time.
Have I learned to minimize this issue? Mmm … sometimes, but it’s still something I deal with on a case-by-case basis.
Example A: I am moving August 1. No where far (still in the Boston-area), however my lease is up and my best friend of a roomie is wedding the man of her dreams. This means changes, cue the music — thanks Mr. Bowie.
Most recently this stressful aspect of my life radiates in the form of a bad attitude. That’s right, I put on those cranky pants — athletic edition, obviously — and wear them everywhere. In fact, they fit quite nicely.
I try deep breathing, yoga, meditation, even acupuncture to ease my nerves. Most instances it helps, which is incredible, other times not-so-much. Again, case-by-case.
I have realized one thing since my sleepless nights rubbing Sarna lotion beneath my oversized pajama top — I must breathe.
Slow inhales, extended exhales and a conscious focus on my breath is the key to preventing a complete cranks-induced meltdown. It may not involve me face down on the floor pounding my fists, but it’s pretty damn close.
When that feeling of stress bubbles up within me and my shoulders start to creep closer to my earlobes I remember that at the end of the day it’ll all be okay. Life will go on. Whatever the outcome, I will come out the other side … just fine.
However if I happen to have a glass of wine in hand and am surrounded by good company, that helps too.
Trust me, while the cranky pants fit like a brand new pair of Athleta crops, no one wants to see me sporting them. No one.