High Stress; Low Stress

Sunday, January 12, 2014

Do you ever find yourself watching the Golden Globes and you're like, "Oh my gosh - could you please stop being so dramatic? Hmmm, wait a minute... okay, fine, so technically that is part of your job...but seriously...go get your award already."


Me either.

Last week was kinda stressful, and I don't consider myself the kind of person who easily succumbs to stress. And I say that in a completely honest and non-dramatic way.

On Monday, someone I grew up with was fired from an administrative and coaching position. There's no way to sugar-coat this, and I've been following the story since January 2. He was fired because of accusations and charges of indecency with a child and sexual assault...this whole ordeal has had a deep impact on me in ways I cannot even begin to describe to you and in ways I can't even precisely pinpoint.

I think some of it might have to do with the fact that a respected person/family man lost their job in a very public way. Maybe some of it has to do with the gut wrenching comments on Facebook ("Kids are just too easy these days..." and "Maybe the kids should have stood up for themselves..." and "Sounds like a bunch of kids who were mad about decreased playing time..." and "My kids wouldn't have waited so long to speak up...").

Seriously. Those kind of summarize the comments from adults. Do they realize how horrid their remarks are? Do they have children of their own? Do they understand that they've basically invited a nasty bout of karma to pay them a visit?

The whole situation is sickening to me on a very personal level. I feel like people have lost faith in humanity, and I feel like people have lost faith in the innocence of childhood. It all goes directly back to the Penn State madness of 2012, and I hate it, despise it, to my very core.

I had an award application to complete by Wednesday (due Friday, but I like to finish early), a stressful meeting Thursday afternoon, and I completely forgot to help out a friend on Friday morning (and I didn't realize it until it was too late).

In addition, I have watched in amazement as some of my most favorite mama friends go through the torturous elevens, and I found myself thinking, "Surely it's not that bad. Maybe we'll get lucky and skip it."
Holy naivety on my part. I got a first hand taste of that Thursday night, and I decided two things. One - I inherited about 50 new grays on my head and another millimeter of depth in my eyebrow wrinkle. Two - there is absolutely no chance that I am cut out for the parenting that is ahead of me (as in I am just not tough enough and I will probably suffer an early death by way of dehydration due to loss of bodily fluid via tear ducts).

Even after the week's torment, I couldn't stop thinking about Monday's incident. I just couldn't shake it. An email to my dad prompted the exact reply I needed and some peace of mind that I don't experience too often...that guy always knows just the words I need to hear at exactly the moment I most need to hear them, and I am forever thankful for his intuition and strength.

I am a creature of habit, and too many meetings or too many people or too many "I forgots" can quickly throw my equilibrium off kilter. By the time I forged my way through a difficult conversation Friday at lunch, I was more than ready for a weekend of complete solitude (the kind where you crawl into a cave with a gallon small camelbak full of wine, a small bottle of water, a couple of peppermints, no books, no light, a comfy blanket, your favorite pillow, and maybe your cell phone...but only for extenuating just-in-case purposes).

Cave moments don't happen to me very often. So as soon as I woke up Saturday morning and meekly peeked out of said cave to check for signs of human life that might want to converse, I decided a spa day was the singular necessity that could get me out of the depths of my funky state of mind.

I called and scheduled my appointments. By noon, my blissful day was underway, and it was nearly 7 last night when I paid out, bleary eyed, relaxed beyond words, yet still wanting to sleep very near the door of the cave (which was a giant improvement from sleeping directly in the cave). And don't even get me started on the "extra processing time" it took for my hair to "de-gray" itself while I sat underneath a heavy pile of foil wraps, lathered in what had to have been at least a half pound of lavender-and-sage-scented moisturizers.

Let me just say that spa days are the kindling that keeps me going. I don't need a full day very often. Translation: I need a full day about once every five years. When I finally "cave" and admit that I need a day, it's usually just in the nick of time.

And today I managed to make it to Cee's soccer game, talk to a few select friends, and quietly sneak away before anyone had time to notice.

There are times when people just need to recharge their batteries. People who don't run on batteries don't understand this, but people who do run on batteries completely respect it and will go as far as to bring a grocery bag filled with yummy warm soup, gatorade, and wine, and leave it on your porch without even ringing the door bell, all for your to find when you get home from the spa (because they have a general idea of when you'll be home, and they want the soup to be warm for you). I love the understanding, and I love the kind of friendships that come with this territory.

Thank you so much. 

And now, it's Golden Globes time and then it will be bed time and tomorrow I will be ready to interact with mankind again.

Thanks for listening to me and letting me vent without asking me any questions - that's the perfect way to top off a much needed quiet weekend!! :)


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