Stress and Sickness and the Unnerving Cyclical Nature of Life

I have this problem. It's a problem I first noticed when I was nineteen years old, 800 miles away from my mom and facing my first real problem in school. Stress makes me sick.

That year, I ended up with fever hallucinations and blisters down my throat. It was not amusing.

Since then, in utter fear of a recurrence, I have tried to acknowledge the signs. I know when I am stressed out. And I know what's coming. So, when I start to get sniffly or queasy or the headaches get closer together and seem to bear no relation to my caffeine consumption, I try to back down. Reduce the stress, lay down, sleep in, maybe even take the day and spend it in bed.

Nip it in the bud. Head it off at the bend.

Except...

Except, the nature of stress is that it happens when you're busy and run ragged and still have miles to go.

And except, sometimes, there's no end.

I'm not trying to be maudlin. I know that there's an end. Somewhere. At some point, the stress will dissipate. It'll end. Life will resume as originally scheduled.

But, I have no idea when. I can't see the light at the end of this particular tunnel.

It's mostly work stuff, which means that I can only talk about it vaguely and a little. But there's other stuff too. Halloween, finances, winter weather in October. I don't usually turn my furnace on until November, ya'll. Since it's been on since Saturday, does that mean I'm going to run out of propane in February?

I sewed for about a half hour last night before the bobbin ran out. Then, I spent an hour last night threading and re-threading Brynna's sewing machine. I never did figure out the problem or make it work. According to Google, I didn't push the bobbin winder over enough.

An hour. How did I not check that?

I went to bed at 11 and I've probably still got a couple of hours to go on her costume. I haven't started Brynna's. (Although, in my defense, I think hers will be easier. I hope. Please.)

Tonight is Maren's football tournament, so I won't be home until late and tomorrow is the school fall festival. They need their costumes for a church thing on Saturday.

And I'll get it done. I really will. I always do. My mom did this too, when I was little. I specifically remember being safety pinned into one costume as a kid.

It's just so damn much.

So, today, I have the sniffles. My throat hurts a little and my head is pounding despite the two cans of Coke I've downed today. (I usually only have one.) But I have promises to keep. And miles to go before I sleep. So many damn miles before I sleep.*

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I promise something cheerier.

*My apologies to Robert Frost. This is one of my favorite poems ever, mostly because I've always found it excruciatingly creepy, but no one else seems to.