My body is always finding new ways to process stress. I was talking to my aunt about some things coming up and she said, “you don’t even seem stressed…” and I’m not. So I think. Used to, during college, I wouldn’t notice that I was under a great deal of stress until it started to show physically…particularly in that I’d swell up like Violet Beauregarde. I’m not talking just the ankles. I went full body, face and all, extreme water retention. Needless to say, it was not cute. Other things happened, which I’ll leave out of this post, but just know that when I got stressed my brain may have refused to accept it, but my body went full swing into a chaotic mess. It’d always take at least a week to calm it back down…this happened at least once a month, for a good long while.

I haven’t had that happen in a nice amount of time.
I’m forever thankful and I really don’t want to repeat any of it.

But let’s just discuss what I’ve discovered my idiotic self has decided to do instead…
It’s true that I still remain relatively calm, cool and collected to the masses when it comes to stress, but this time my sleep has been attacked. “Oh you can’t sleep? Here! Valerian root! Chamomile! Melatonin, my love!” Nonono, I can sleep. Oh, I can sleep. But. But. But…I dream. I dream horrifically vivid, realistic dreams.
This little trick played by my brain started in September. I didn’t recognize what was going on until last night. I dream some idiotically, stupid, yet hauntingly real dream, at least 4 or 7 times a week (depending on how many naps I sneak in). I hate it. I don’t hate it more than swelling, but it’s fast becoming equal with it.
I just feel quite ridiculous. I know I feel that way because that is what I am.

I am going to find a healthier way to process stress, and I know that my body is going to rebel ferociously because it always does, but honestly…this is just beyond irritating.

I’d like to blame it on someone. You know the feeling? When something’s happening to you and you know you’re the one responsible, but you just don’t want to admit it? I’m all about taking responsibility for ones’ own actions, but this…this I just want to leave off on someone else. “HEY YOU! Yeah, you. Look here, my body hates me and it’s very immature and it cannot figure out how to properly express it’s feelings on stress. You were around when all this started in May of 2009, and you popped back up around the time my brain decided to change its’ evil little game back in September, so I’m blaming you. You’re the common denominator. Oh, don’t whine about it, just take it like a man. You can’t do anything about it? Ha! I knew you couldn’t, I just wanted you to feel bad. You aren’t going to? Because I’m a silly woman, masquerading as a silly little girl and I desperately need to grow up? Ugh. Just go away. No one invited you here to say such things. I knew I’d regret blaming you” …

Well, folks, I’m a real nut job, what can I say?