I have a confession to make, and it is not pretty. I am having one of those weeks that defy all of the reasonable assumptions of my life: hands-on spouse is traveling; my normally sane job schedule has morphed into a full-time workload with part-time hours; my moderately well-behaved children are acting instead like possessed cats. I am having one of those weeks where the universe lines up and starts firing off little gems of misery in my direction. Don’t get me started on the little indignity that made me feel even sorrier for my self (two words: bad haircut). I wish I could say that I was one of those amazing women (you know who you are) who use exercise, or meditation to ease their souls when over-burdened. The ugly truth about this mom under stress is that when stressed out, I completely let my freak flag fly and break out those crazy little rituals that get me through the tough times.
This really all began in graduate school when I was suffering from years of infertility, and some minor (read major) graduate school weight gain. On one of my sorrier-than-sorry for me days, I went to pick up a good book and a bag of peanut butter m & m’s from the store. Though my years spent as a high school literature teacher gave me a grand contempt for “bodice rippers”, I found myself intrigued by the cover of a Fabio-less romance novel. In these trashy romance novels, I discovered the ultimate sense of escapism. These books had none of the heartbreak and depth of my usual reads, and to that, I said…thank you! A quiet evening and a trashy romance novel are still my favorite cure for a bad case of the woes.
Of course, I have to make myself a cliché and admit that chocolate used to be my drug of choice. But, in the ultimate act of betrayal, or in a Darwinist push for self-preservation, my body developed an allergy to chocolate. This led to a horrible trial and error period (have you ever tried organic jelly beans…don’t) until I found my new fix…black licorice! I keep an emergency stash on hand for those times when nothing but sugar will do, and I have yet to find a time that doesn’t fall into that category. You can find licorice in my desk, my purse, my computer bag, my pantry, and in my car. Really, a girl can never be too prepared for a stressful day.
This is so Junior High, but when feeling especially low, I usually make a play list of all of my favorite 80’s and early 90’s love songs and hit repeat. I don’t want the songs that remind me about how awesome my husband is and how much I love him. Nope. Uh-Uh. I want the songs that make me relive the heartbreak and drama of my teen years. I like the songs that evoke those feelings of angst. My standard go to songs include: Phil Collins’, “Against all odds”, Mariah Carey’s “I Can’t Live” (if living is without you), and Boys II Men’s “End of the Road”. I listen to this at work, I make my kids listen in the car, I sing the songs in the shower, and I play the most tragic ones for my long-suffering husband. I feel the pain, and it helps.
My confession is that when I am overwhelmed and stressed out, I am not such a patient mom, not such a loving wife, and not much of a nice person. I tend towards bitchiness anyways and stress just puts me over the edge. If, in order to maintain some semblance of sanity, I need to let my inner licorice loving, chocolate missing, trashy romance reading, preteen out of the bag, so be it. Now, you’ll have to excuse me, it is hard to enjoy a well-written love scene while balancing a keyboard and a piece of licorice.
