Those little things that make my blood boil

Once upon a time I thought I was good at dealing with stress. And I had plenty of it to deal with. A spate of family deaths, a marriage break up, rearing three small kids on my own, financial worries. I could go on. But I found myself able to compartmentalise and live in the moment. And believe me I really was able to live in the moment. Forget about the morrow and live it up. Friends used to worry about my pecuniary circumstances more than I did.

But it’s all changed and as I get older I find myself stressing ridiculously about everything. I get stressed driving. If someone doesn’t take off quickly enough at the traffic lights and I get stuck, I want to drive after them and beat them to a pulp. My dog sleeps in my room and snores. He’s like Mount Etna erupting. And I get stressed and shout at him. I can’t put him anywhere else because he would try to break the door down to get in and cause me even more stress. I should just ignore him. And the person at the traffic lights. I go to Pilates which is meant to improve stress. And I get stressed because I find myself self propelling across the room when I have to stand on one leg. And because I’m the only one who can’t roll up without a crane to help me I get stressed. It’s all quite paradoxical.

And then I sit down in front of the telly to de-stress and I get stressed by ridiculous things like grammar and pronunciation. And contestants who go for the lower offer on The Chase. And people who don’t buy any of the houses on Escape to the Country. When I was pregnant a long time ago my blood pressure was worryingly low. Now it’s worryingly high. And I get stressed about my blood pressure being worryingly high.

It’s a vicious circle...