Stress Management

Hello, my name is Ashes, and I'm about to lose my #&%^!
That's kind of how I want to introduce myself sometimes. But I don't. I smile and make happy small talk and do my best to make every one happy. I think most people have some kind of mechanism we can call a "Stress Management Button". We hit it when we don't want to look like idiots, burden the poor cashier with our woes, or generally simply don't want people knowing we're drowning in a sea of WTFamIsupposedTodo?!

Sometimes we lose that filter. I seem to have misplaced my filter at some point on Monday and I would be pleased if I found it again. Yesterday and today for some reason I cannot find my Stress Management Button. Not that I'm going around screaming at the top of my lungs "Dear God Why?!" but I simply can't say anything to anyone for fear of blurting something like "I'm having a terrible day, thanks for asking." Probably in a snarky tone, as I crinkle my nose.

Because of this recent destruction of my calm I've been thinking a lot about how human beings manage stress. The Google has a lot of articles about 'taking time out for you' and 'making lists to help manage your time' and 'how to get back in control'. Nothing that will help my brain stop playing things on loop, or imagining horrible scenarios, or keep me from telling Jex that his Vulcan-ness is going to give me more work than anything else ever of all time.
I can't 'take time out for me' there's too much crap I need to do, I will not enjoy the shower/nap/game/downtime at all; actually it will probably key me up even more than I am already.
I've done the list, the list is what is stressing me out. It keeps growing, nothing is ever actually finished. And why on earth did someone write 'fix Jex's drivers' in that tiny space between 'check visa status' and 'find shot records'?! Is that what it says? All I see is a scribble? OMG this is probably a super important scribble I have to figure out what it says!

That's just it. I can't get back into control. Because if I would really be honest with myself I was never actually in control to begin with. I cannot control what Jex does or does not say in the most mathematical and unfeeling way. I cannot control that what he says may or may not make someone cry. I can't make the car in front of me stop slamming on it's breaks every time the phone in said car get's picked up by said car's driver. There is no law of the universe that will allow me to get everything I need done in the time I've allotted to do it in if any of those things requires more of me than I previously thought it would. We can't control our world, we can't control our peanut butter, our government, or the guy next door; It's simply not a possibility.
And that is why we're stressed.

We think we should be able to 'get back in control' of our lives, our job, our money, our refrigerator, closet, body, pets, children, cable package, phone bills; the list goes on and on. I don't know when we got this idea that we can actually control things, but there are magazine articles galore about the topic.
We can influence, of course. We can make changes for the better, make informed and wise decisions, we can guide our path, we can put forth effort. At the end of the day however, we cannot actually control anything.

It's hard to admit, personally.
Though now that I've written this out and taken a step back I feel better. I can't control what's going on; honestly who would want all that responsibility? The only thing I can control is myself, and even that control is a bit shoddy sometimes. That's fine. I'll learn from it, get better, move on to the next challenge life tosses in my face.

Stress Management looks different for everyone. Contrary to popular belief the Google Machine and the people on the internet do not have all the answers. I don't have all the answers; actually I probably have none of the answers.
I kept my mouth shut all day, got home and cried, then sat down to work through the problems via text. Read through the horrid stream of consciousness blather and streamlined my thoughts, let them less of a chaotic shape; this is my deep breath. Now I'm imagining myself as someone kickass like Red Sonja, She-Ra, or Wonder Woman (yeah her outfit is silly, but she's still awesome). Later, with those images in my head, I'll probably go on a walk. It's dumb, but it works. I think I can manage not to freak out when the internet gets slow, or crashes when I HAVE to email TIME SENSITIVE documents to someone, now. (^_^)

What does your deep breath look like? If it involves a hot cup of delicious you are required to share.

Till next time my lovlies,
~The light heart lives long.

Wu sah

So....
Getting sick again, didn't do half of what I wanted to get done today, and to add the grody green cherry to a craptastic day my car decided to "throw a rod". Hooray for me. I have a car with a useless engine. What luck.
I need that car! It's the only one we have! Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!
Did I mention aaaaahhhhh?
*big sigh*

I'm going to have to reschedule the meeting with the private investigator tomorrow. I'm being interviewed for a friend's security clearance. Staying with a friend till I can get another ride and or get the car towed to my apartment. I want to rant. To cry. To sleep. To talk in short and almost elementary sentences. My only saving grace is that my father in law has a car he can loan me. If he's ok driving 6 hours.

Why do these things happen when everything is closed and everyone else is asleep?

On the upside Dazee gave me cool award. I'll share the love as soon as I'm not on a borrowed iPad. It makes me super happy to get an award, especially from some one so cool.

roar?

Identity

Identity is a big thing. It's how you get a job, credit, how people see you, and how you see yourself. The word is loaded with so much emotion: contentment, happiness, frustration, and so on depending on where you are in life or who help up their own mirror to your face.

My identity was secure; despite the statistics of home schooled military brats. Eventually I learned that your outward appearance is such a huge part of one's identity. More than my little introverted brain ever considered. I didn't learn this till I cut my hip length hair to my shoulders and went to school only to have a great deal of people not recognize me.
My dad had always said to never slap anyone in the face because 'it's an attack on the person not just the body'.

My identity got challenged when moving back to the states, and then nearly shattered after getting married. Growing up as I had my place in the family was a HUGE part of how I defined who I was. Now that had all changed. I was living with some one else, with different (for lack of a better word) duties and concerns. I even had a different name!

In then end, though modified, I'm still Ashes.
I'm still a dork. I still read way more than is healthy. I watch cartoons and get too loud when I get excited or over joyed. Part of me wishes I could be badass but the other half of me is resigned to the fact that I'm 'cute'. I have the same scars. The same fears still stalk me (I'm working on beating them into submission). To this day I confuse the crap out of people with my clothing, yet some how pull it off.
I'm still a flower bud, changing colors as she blooms in the garden of life with my sisters, brothers, and the thorns that pop up around us.

What makes you 'you'? What do you see when you look at yourself?

To Eve with not so much love.

Dear Eve,
I have something to tell you. Although I'm sure you've heard it before. Honestly I really meant to be the one woman to give you a break but today and this last week have broken that resolve.
*ahem*
WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?! Was the fruit that shiny?! What kind of a woman listens to a snake with legs over God?!
Yeah sure, the legs were normal in your time, and your cautionary tale is probably why women will never listen to a snake no matter how silver his tongue. If you were still alive we'd have words, lots and lots of words, most of them R material.
With some pity,
Your very peeved descendant.

Dear Corporate America

Dear Corporate America,
My throat would love it if you would stop forcibly shoving Christmas down it. Quite honestly pine trees don't go down very smoothly and the blood trail, though matching with the holiday color scheme, is really bad for my carpet.
Couldn't you wait until the day after Thanks Giving, or for heaven's sake November first? It's really disconcerting to see a Christmas tree in the middle of bat and witch shaped cookies.
I mean you're confusing the little kids. They're going to think that Santa is some demon who comes down the chimney to suck their blood.
It would be really nice if you could try not to look so eager to take every penny of our hard earned cash. We might forget how greedy and overpriced you are if you respect the Holidays and stop putting Santa hats on Turkeys and Christmas lights over the fake blood and gore.
Sincerely a very annoyed ex-customer.