Stress Archives

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“My Name’s Mummy and I’m a Stresshead”

By Mum's the Word on February 20, 2012 in Life, Opinion, Personal

(Bear with me while I get through the necessary pre-amble, there is a cogent point somewhere at the bottom of this post!)

Last September, we made the decision to send Sausage to Nursery three mornings a week and I couldn’t, in good conscience, sit at home scratching my arse while she was out, when I could get a job and contribute to the family coffers. Husband had been amazing about me staying at home instead of going back to work after my maternity leave ended and I thought I’d take some of the pressure off of him for a change.

I’d been lucky in that I fell into working from home, managing social media for a few brands as well as a bit of writing and other bits. I brought in a small wage and still continue to do most of it, alongside my ‘real’ job which is in an Accountants office. Bit of a Jack of All Trades, you could say.

But, I digress. The problem I seem to have is that I find it hard to switch off.

Take today (and I wish someone would…); I had a manic day in the office, I’ve just increased my days to four a week and it was payroll day, so I processed around 30 payrolls in about 4 hours. It’s usually fairly straightforward and most clients only have one or two people on their payroll, but today was just problem after problem. One client wanted his P45 issued..oh, did I mention, he’s moving to Australia TOMORROW so it all had to be processed, scanned, emailed to him, submitted to HMRC etc, and I was informed of this about half an hour before I was due to come home.

The actual work isn’t an issue, I can do it with my eyes shut, it’s the fact that I go into hyper-work-mode to get everything done on time and then after I leave, I can’t seem to manage to shake hyper-work-mode off and get into home-mode. Even when I go home, get out of my work clothes and sit down with Sausage, I’m still thinking about tax returns, payroll and my current side-project of getting a website up and running for my boss.

I’ve not spoken much about it, but I suffer on and off with anxiety. It’s not been getting the better of me as much lately, but it started when I was eleven, carried on through my teens and early twenties and was compounded by Post Natal PTSD after I gave birth. The crux of all of this rambling is that my unspent work-mode energy seems to be manifesting itself as anxiety. I get all hyper at work, come home, feel unable to unwind and by dinner time, I’m having a full-blown panic attack.

So, what do I do, people? Does anyone else get anything even remotely like this, or am I just a big weirdo? What can I do to stop it, if anything? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

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The Last Word.

By Mum's the Word on September 13, 2011 in Anger, Rant

Last year, not long after I started this blog, I wrote THIS post about how I collect straws. The basic premise of being a straw collector is that a person who collects straws goes about their day and if something negative happens, they store it up. Then the next minor thing happens and they store that up. They collect up all these ‘straws’ of anger, until they get to the final one and then they snap. I’ve been trying my hardest to not do this, and although I still have a bit of a temper if I’m pushed, I am a lot more chilled out in a lot of ways.

There is, however, a character flaw that I have which is something else that I should really work on, and that is the fact that I feel like I must have the last word. If I argue with someone or have a disagreement, I always feel like I’ve been totally wronged unless I get them to change their opinion. I’ve had disagreements with people in the past which still weigh heavily on my mind because I didn’t get an apology or a retraction from them, even though I know they were totally wrong. I’ll admit, I have a huge chip on my shoulder when it comes to people judging me wrongly. I know who and what I am, and I think I’m a very honest person when it comes to myself, but when people get it wrong, it winds me up terribly.

I have internal conversations which people where I say all of the clever things that I wanted to say during an argument, all of which prove them wrong, make me look wonderfully intelligent and urbane, whilst employing great amounts of grace and wit. Of course, arguments generally just degrade to a point where no one employs much wit, and all that’s being slung is something which rhymes with wit, so I never get to really employ all of these skills that I’ve honed so well inside my own head.

But it’s not very healthy, is it? Sometimes, when I’m walking the dog or washing up or going about some other brainless task, I go over petty rows in my head and I get so wound up that I end up with an ache in my gut and a mood like a bear who’s been disturbed, mid-hybernation. I suppose it’s a bit of longer-term straw collecting, but I just can’t seem to let it go.

I suppose I need to know that I’m not alone in this. Does anyone else do this, or am I the only one with an over-developed jaw muscle from all of the teeth grinding that I do? It can’t just be me, can it? Does this make me a terrible person, this need for people to know that I was right and they were wrong? Gosh, when I put it like that, it does sound that way, doesn’t it?

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Collecting Straws

By Mum's the Word on October 14, 2010 in Anger, Life, Opinion, Rant

My husband is one of those people who knows everything.

Not in a douchey “I’m a know-it-all” kind of way, he’s just got one of those amazing brains which stores an unfathomable amount of stuff. Couple that with an overactive thirst for knowledge and he knows a lot. He’s the kind of guy you want on your team at a pub quiz.

So, the other day, he was doing some reading about various different philosophies relating to anger and he came across the phrase “collecting straws”.

Basically, a person who collects straws goes about their day and if something negative happens, they store it up. Then the next minor thing happens and they store that up. They collect up all these ‘straws’ of anger, until they get to the final one and then they snap (the straw that broke the camels back, if you will). The thing which finally makes them snap is generally something quite minor, but they break under the strain of the weight of all the straws they collected throughout the day. Some people may spend their whole lives collecting straws.

Now, he told me about this and it started ringing some Big Ben sized bells.

I am a straw collector.

And I kid myself that I’m actually a super patient person, that I just lose my rag when something really pushes me, but it’s not true. I’ve lost count of the amount of days I had where I’m absolutely seething by the evening, and can reel off a long list of so-called disasters which have made my day so shitty.

My anger is like one of those huge cardboard cut-outs of a thermometer that they have at fundraising events. You know, the ones where the more money they raise, the more of the thermometer they colour in, until finally the top of the thermometer ‘explodes’ when they reach their target?

That’s me.

So.

Where do I go from here, now I know that I’m a straw collector?

Some self-motivated anger management.

I’ve had people suggest to me that I should count down from ten when I get cross. And you know what? That just makes me want to punch that person. Punch them in the face.

I’ve never actually punched a person in the face.

So how do I go about stopping myself from storing up all the silly little ‘straws’.

I have to say, when I think about it, straw collecting is a family trait. My mum is an avid reader of my blog (Hi Mum) and I think she’ll agree with me when I say that it comes straight from the top. My Nan is the Queen of the Straw Collectors. We really have been taught by the best. My Nan doesn’t just collect straws on a daily basis, she’s been collecting them FOR LIFE! Now don’t get me wrong, I love my Nan a lot, she’s great and has been like a second Mum to me.

But I wish I’d got to her earlier.

I wish I could go back about 40 years and say to her “You know what, Nan? This straw collecting bullshit just isn’t worth it.” I wonder if she’d have been happier in life if she could have just let some of the small stuff go? I wonder if she’d have felt more fulfilled, more content with the way her life turned out?

But it’s too late for my Nan. She’s got a lifetime of straws, all stored up. So, I’ll tell myself, instead. I’ll tell myself, every time I realise that I’m doing it again…CUT IT LOOSE.

A far more profound person than I once wrote