I'm stressed. What's for dinner?

Today I can’t write anything insightful or funny. I try and fail because I’m stressed. We hear that phrase all the time, overused and under thought. We’re stressed over our marriages, jobs, families, and perhaps even what to prepare for dinner. Damn. Add that one to my list for today also.

Stress is defined as a specific response by the body to a stimulus, as fear or pain, that disturbs or interferes with the normal physiological equilibrium of an organism. I’m not sure that I qualify as having a “normal physiological equilibrium”.  In fact, I’m relatively certain that normal and equilibrated are two adjectives that shouldn’t be used to describe me.

My loss-aversion drives me to react impulsively. But when I rationally consider my stressors, it becomes apparent that my fear is simply of people. I do not trust people. I try to. I want to cover my eyes and disillusion myself in optimism, but I can’t. 

I fundamentally believe that most people are not interested enough to understand or evaluate the information available to them. They also do not appreciate it when I bring contradicting information to their attention. I am required to advocate for myself and my family on a daily basis, swimming upstream against a current of ineptitude. 

In the past two hours, I have (you can skip this paragraph if you don’t care):

(1)    Mailed a letter citing sections of the Ohio Revised Code governing speech therapy for preschool aged children to explain the intricacies to my school district. It does not comfort me that they can not read or understand the laws, but are in theory capable of educating my children.

(2)    Researched the specific chemical properties of flexible PVC piping and its appropriate underground use around pools. It turns out that it can be eaten by termites. Who knew? Not my contractor, obviously.

(3)    Filed a complaint with PUCO over the distribution portion of my electric bill, which has more than doubled over the past year. Nothing funny about that. 

You can not unsee things which have already been seen, and attempting to squelch my uneasiness when I notice an inconsistency only propagates my anxiety. I can not ignore my problems or they consume me, tapeworms destroying me from the inside. Every fact that contradicts the information I have been given by authorities (contractors, educators, you name it) undermines my trust. The less I trust these people, the more pressure it places on me to discern the difference between those who are knowledgeable and those who simply like to hear themselves talk, which is sometimes an extremely difficult distinction.

So after careful evaluation, I can happily conclude that my stress is due not to my own failures, but to those of others. Thank God… For a moment there, I was starting to doubt myself.

As an aside, on a happy note, my cat has been miraculously rehabilitated. I scrubbed the litter boxes, separated them, removed the lids, and insisted that the kids clean them daily. She has faithfully pooped in the box every day since my last post. So much for fluffy kitty pandering.

Hopefully my letter to PUCO won’t tick them off enough that they shut off our electricity.