Stress kills. It can kill us, literally, but before it gets that far it can kill our dreams by destroying our ambition. My longtime friend – and in many ways sort of a hero – Mack Paul shares something very important to all overstressed writers. (Uh, that would be all writers, by definition, I think.)
by Mack Paul
So I’m driving through my neighborhood, and this idiot in a big pickup is going 20 miles per hour where everybody knows that the rule is to go 30, no matter what the stupid sign says. I get frustrated. My mind contracts to a little laser beam of hurry. I want to tailgate and I want to honk. Then it occurs to me that if I do that, he might just get out of his big truck and teach me some manners. I decide I might be better off just feeling how I feel. I shift my attention from my hurrying mind to my body and the anxiety churning in my stomach. Feeling it, rather than trying to escape it, I relax a little bit. I notice the beautiful blue sky and the green trees, and then going 20 is fun, a lot more fun than going nuts and getting in a fight.
I find myself doing an unpleasant yard chore while simultaneously fretting about climate change. I despair about global warming and I hate the job. I start getting mad because our environmentally-friendly tools aren’t getting me through this misery quickly enough. Then I come up with a great plan, to go into the house and start yelling at my wife about our crummy tools. I realize that won’t work. She’ll get mad and tell me I’m an idiot and she’ll be right. Crap! I just feel how I feel and calm down. I finish the job and go inside for a pleasant conversation instead of a nasty one.
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