Under Pressure

A recent conversation (and spit up) has me thinking about stress...

Ashley had a major spit-up episode.  We're talking out the mouth and nose.  Scared the ever-loving crap out of me, and freaked poor little one out something fierce.  Neither one of us saw it coming, and it affected us both.

And since all of my mental analogies are baby-related these days, it got me thinking about stress. (Once Ash was calmed down, of course.  During and immediately post-spit-up we were both hot messes.)

I don't think any of us really realize how stress is affecting us or others until the shit (or spit-up) hits the fan.  And by then, we wished we would've seen the storm coming sooner.  We say things like, "I had no idea I was such a bitch/ass/royal douchebag," or "How did I let it get this out of hand?"

Truthfully, we knew on some level what was happening, but we either felt powerless to change our circumstances, or we'd shoved our circumstances firmly under the rug.  We become so successful at thinking we're managing our stress, that we don't realize (until it's too late) that our stress is managing us. 

I feel like I'm rambling here, so I'll finish with this: get out of your own head for a minute or so, take inventory of how fulfilled you really feel, and if things could be better, create an action plan (written or otherwise) to do something about it.  Keep in mind that it's not just your happiness at stake, but also the happiness of those who care about you.  And for god's sake, Ash...go easy on the milk!