angelina's scar

Have you ever heard of a stress scale? A dear friend of mine told me about it a few years ago while I was going through a difficult time. I had been sick to my stomach for weeks and weeks, leading into months. I had had every medical test, and for all intents and purposes I was perfectly healthy. Physically healthy, at least. The stress scale lists events which a person may experience and their stress impact on a person. And, when she mentioned to me that within the past year I had started a long-distance relationship, lost my mother, quit a beloved job, moved to another province, started a new job, and then had the relationship end, it became evident that I was experiencing the major effects of too much stress. I healed.

Fast forward three years and, again, I have a new relationship (now a year old), two new jobs, new language and I moved to another continent. I am fine, but the stress has been quite evident over the past 3 weeks….just ask great guy. I feel overwhelmed with everything that I need to get used to and my head feels all a-jumble. I have been feeling insecure, wondering what I am doing here and why, and not feeling like I am doing anything very successfully at all. I haven’t been able to write (apologies to all my faithful blog readers) or workout, and up until four days ago I was not feeling very happy with the current state of my life…even as I look out at the castle and the Rhein.

Then yesterday came along and things got a whole bunch more stressful. Let me tell you…the Oxford Dictionary definition of stress is: hurtling down the autobahn at 140 km/hr, in a huge van filled with glasses and wine bottles, sitting in the passenger seat while a cocky, 19-year-old manboy is driving, a day after you’ve had a giant, infected lump carved out of your stomach and you wish you could just stay still and not move….ever again. Stress.

But, I have decided to move past my current stressors (and to never let the manboy drive again) because I realize my life is actually quite good (I don’t want anyone to think I’m complaining!). I am forcing myself to write. It’s good for my head, and maybe I’ll start yoga again, which will be good for my body.

One REALLY good thing, is that the surgeon told me he stitched up the hole below my ribcage so perfectly and with such care, that it will leave a scar good enough for Angelina Jolie. That’s something.