How's this for a stress reducer?
When you become aware of an unpleasant emotion or tension creeping into your body or mind, ask yourself these three questions:
1. Could I let it go? (ie. am I capable of letting it go?)
2. Would I let it go?
3. When?
It's had a remarkable impact on my stress levels in only two days of doing it.
Showing posts with label stress. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stress. Show all posts
Monday, November 24, 2008
Friday, September 19, 2008
Another challenging morning
I got enough responses to my 'alarming morning' post that I thought I would share my other recent challenging morning.
The first thing to know is that I have a cross-dressing two-year old. He only puts on boys clothes if he's going out. His preferred outfits are his sister's pink floral dresses. He wears her shoes everywhere and he loves playing with Barbies.
Sunday mornings I am on my own. Andrew is normally already at church by the time the kids are awake and its up to me to get everyone dressed, fed, groomed and out the door for the 9:30 service.
On this particular morning, the two year old who had been dressed correctly, found the pink floral dress about five minutes before we had to leave. He undressed completely and put it on.
I was in a rush and he wasn't going to take off the 'pink', so I put him in the car with the intention to dress him once we got to church before he got out of the car.
We arrived to find no spots in the concreted car park, so had to park under the trees. But it had been raining and the dirt had turned to MUD. I opened the door and started to dress the little boy. So far so good, but then something happened that never ever ever happens: my five year old got out of the car by himself. Normally this would be a great achievement. The only problem was that he slid his feet (no shoes) straight down into the MUD.
So I had a half-dressed toddler squirming to get out, a five year old screaming with muddy feet. The complicating factor in all this was the new cream upholstery in our brand new car.
Somehow I managed to wipe feet, keep seats clean, dress a kid, put on shoes and get both of them out and into the church building so that I could head to the kitchen and prepare the morning tea I also had to carry in with me.
However, I made a fatal mistake.
The toddler wanted that pink dress so much that I let him carry it inside with him. While I was busy in the kitchen, he went to the creche, took off all his clothes and put the pink dress on again.
The next thing I knew was my son was running through the church hall dressed in a pink floral dress with a huge grin on his face. I swiped him up and plonked him back in the car, whipped the dress off and got rid of it. He started to tantrum and refused his clothes. I had to leave him naked in the car while I went back to get the five year old who can't cope without me at church.
In the end, it was a matter of waiting out the tantrum. You can normally time his episodes to about 25-30 minutes. Once he'd cried it out, he was happy to get dressed in his shorts and head into church.
Amazingly, I was laughing. It was an amusing morning! And you can see a picture of the dreaded pink dress in the photo of our cubby house two posts below!
The first thing to know is that I have a cross-dressing two-year old. He only puts on boys clothes if he's going out. His preferred outfits are his sister's pink floral dresses. He wears her shoes everywhere and he loves playing with Barbies.
Sunday mornings I am on my own. Andrew is normally already at church by the time the kids are awake and its up to me to get everyone dressed, fed, groomed and out the door for the 9:30 service.
On this particular morning, the two year old who had been dressed correctly, found the pink floral dress about five minutes before we had to leave. He undressed completely and put it on.
I was in a rush and he wasn't going to take off the 'pink', so I put him in the car with the intention to dress him once we got to church before he got out of the car.
We arrived to find no spots in the concreted car park, so had to park under the trees. But it had been raining and the dirt had turned to MUD. I opened the door and started to dress the little boy. So far so good, but then something happened that never ever ever happens: my five year old got out of the car by himself. Normally this would be a great achievement. The only problem was that he slid his feet (no shoes) straight down into the MUD.
So I had a half-dressed toddler squirming to get out, a five year old screaming with muddy feet. The complicating factor in all this was the new cream upholstery in our brand new car.
Somehow I managed to wipe feet, keep seats clean, dress a kid, put on shoes and get both of them out and into the church building so that I could head to the kitchen and prepare the morning tea I also had to carry in with me.
However, I made a fatal mistake.
The toddler wanted that pink dress so much that I let him carry it inside with him. While I was busy in the kitchen, he went to the creche, took off all his clothes and put the pink dress on again.
The next thing I knew was my son was running through the church hall dressed in a pink floral dress with a huge grin on his face. I swiped him up and plonked him back in the car, whipped the dress off and got rid of it. He started to tantrum and refused his clothes. I had to leave him naked in the car while I went back to get the five year old who can't cope without me at church.
In the end, it was a matter of waiting out the tantrum. You can normally time his episodes to about 25-30 minutes. Once he'd cried it out, he was happy to get dressed in his shorts and head into church.
Amazingly, I was laughing. It was an amusing morning! And you can see a picture of the dreaded pink dress in the photo of our cubby house two posts below!
Thursday, September 18, 2008
An alarming morning
Thursday is the morning I do the preschool run. It's rarely straight-forward, but this morning it was especially interesting.
It began about 8.30 just as I was finishing packing the boys lunch. The two year old was so excited to be going that he began emptying his bag and eating his lunch. Mess everywhere.
Then my nine-year old came in in a state of panic. She had a harp lesson at 10am and was looking for her tuning key. "Have you seen it? Where is it mum?"
I suggested she look in the special place where we had decided she should keep it. No tuning key. We walked around the house looking in the obvious places, but still no tuning key. I rang the RSL club on the chance I might have left it there last Sunday (hockey presentations... long story), but no tuning key.
"We'll have to check at church," I said and proceeded to repack the two year old's bag and get him and his sister into the car.
Then it was time to move the five year old. He has autism, and hates transitions. I had to pick him up screaming and calm him down to put him in the car, having already put in his shoes and bag.
We then went on the drop off. Thankfully the younger son was easy. He literally danced in. It was just as well because the five year old was NOT GOING TO PRESCHOOL MUM!
"I'm Going Later Mum. I'm Missing Preschool. It's Locked. I Want To Go Home!!!" All at the top of his voice in full screaming mode as I drove the car down the hill.
I wrenched him out of the car and we sat on the kerb for a while. The preschool teacher finally heard the din and came out to help. Together we got him through the gate and spent ten minutes trying to calm him down to no avail. Meanwhile, there were parents coming in and out asking me kindly, "Are you ok?" "Is it his first time here?" I just couldn't tell them that he's been coming all year and except for maybe four mornings, he's cried every time.
In the middle of this, the new car alarm went off. My daughter was sitting inside and unlocked the door. I wasn't quite sure what to do, but pressing enough remote buttons on the key thankfully shut it down.
Finally I got him inside and left. The next task was to find the tuning key. We turned into the church carpark and I noticed there were no cars parked, which meant probably there was no one there, which meant I would have to negotiate the building alarm. I don't know the password!
I took a punt that there might just be someone inside, or perhaps that the alarm was off, so I unlocked the door, but my punt sank. As soon as we got inside, the siren wailed and whined.
I decided I wouldn't waste an open door, so went to look for the tuning key anyway. My ears are pretty used to high pitched screeches by now! Wouldn't you know it - it wasn't there! (The alarm reset itself when I left and I took a call from security checking I wasn't a robber.)
We prayed before we went home that we would find the tuning key. The harp has 30 strings, and it was sounding pretty bad, so we definitely needed to tune. We walked in and the second place I looked was inside the piano stool.
"Oh yeah," said my daughter. "I remember now. I put it in there!"
It began about 8.30 just as I was finishing packing the boys lunch. The two year old was so excited to be going that he began emptying his bag and eating his lunch. Mess everywhere.
Then my nine-year old came in in a state of panic. She had a harp lesson at 10am and was looking for her tuning key. "Have you seen it? Where is it mum?"
I suggested she look in the special place where we had decided she should keep it. No tuning key. We walked around the house looking in the obvious places, but still no tuning key. I rang the RSL club on the chance I might have left it there last Sunday (hockey presentations... long story), but no tuning key.
"We'll have to check at church," I said and proceeded to repack the two year old's bag and get him and his sister into the car.
Then it was time to move the five year old. He has autism, and hates transitions. I had to pick him up screaming and calm him down to put him in the car, having already put in his shoes and bag.
We then went on the drop off. Thankfully the younger son was easy. He literally danced in. It was just as well because the five year old was NOT GOING TO PRESCHOOL MUM!
"I'm Going Later Mum. I'm Missing Preschool. It's Locked. I Want To Go Home!!!" All at the top of his voice in full screaming mode as I drove the car down the hill.
I wrenched him out of the car and we sat on the kerb for a while. The preschool teacher finally heard the din and came out to help. Together we got him through the gate and spent ten minutes trying to calm him down to no avail. Meanwhile, there were parents coming in and out asking me kindly, "Are you ok?" "Is it his first time here?" I just couldn't tell them that he's been coming all year and except for maybe four mornings, he's cried every time.
In the middle of this, the new car alarm went off. My daughter was sitting inside and unlocked the door. I wasn't quite sure what to do, but pressing enough remote buttons on the key thankfully shut it down.
Finally I got him inside and left. The next task was to find the tuning key. We turned into the church carpark and I noticed there were no cars parked, which meant probably there was no one there, which meant I would have to negotiate the building alarm. I don't know the password!
I took a punt that there might just be someone inside, or perhaps that the alarm was off, so I unlocked the door, but my punt sank. As soon as we got inside, the siren wailed and whined.
I decided I wouldn't waste an open door, so went to look for the tuning key anyway. My ears are pretty used to high pitched screeches by now! Wouldn't you know it - it wasn't there! (The alarm reset itself when I left and I took a call from security checking I wasn't a robber.)
We prayed before we went home that we would find the tuning key. The harp has 30 strings, and it was sounding pretty bad, so we definitely needed to tune. We walked in and the second place I looked was inside the piano stool.
"Oh yeah," said my daughter. "I remember now. I put it in there!"
Friday, October 26, 2007
Stress
I've been very very anxious this week. Tight jaw, headaches, losing and forgetting things and my nervous tic, the twitchy lip.
The problem is that I'm worried that I'll never have enough time or energy to write the books I want to write (and every month I have a new idea for one). I'll never have time to study to be an RDI consultant and work with autistic children. I want to be fit and healthy, but I haven't made it to a pilates class yet this year. Perhaps I should have more children, but I don't have enough time. I have heaps of ideas for sewing and making quilts, but I don't have enough time. I really want to finish knitting my scarf and cool beanie, but I don't have enough time.
Of course I understand that if I keep worrying about what I haven't done yet, I'll die of stress disease early, which would be an ironic proposition.
It seemed easier when I was younger. There was more life stretching out ahead of me, but I'm nearly halfway through now and I've hardly done any of it yet.
What's the answer here? Get used to the idea that I just won't be able to achieve everything I want to? How can I live with that? I need some help.
The problem is that I'm worried that I'll never have enough time or energy to write the books I want to write (and every month I have a new idea for one). I'll never have time to study to be an RDI consultant and work with autistic children. I want to be fit and healthy, but I haven't made it to a pilates class yet this year. Perhaps I should have more children, but I don't have enough time. I have heaps of ideas for sewing and making quilts, but I don't have enough time. I really want to finish knitting my scarf and cool beanie, but I don't have enough time.
Of course I understand that if I keep worrying about what I haven't done yet, I'll die of stress disease early, which would be an ironic proposition.
It seemed easier when I was younger. There was more life stretching out ahead of me, but I'm nearly halfway through now and I've hardly done any of it yet.
What's the answer here? Get used to the idea that I just won't be able to achieve everything I want to? How can I live with that? I need some help.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Swearing
I have developed an icky habit of letting loose a few expletives in my head when I'm particularly frustrated or irritated.
It's not so good for me, and it's not good for anyone else around me if a word accidentally slips out.
I've been a little convicted about it, and have been trying to work out how to get rid of it.
A cheesy rhyme sprang into my head the other day and now whenever I start to get mad, I think: "Swap swear words for prayer words."
It's groan-worthy, but it's working.
It's not so good for me, and it's not good for anyone else around me if a word accidentally slips out.
I've been a little convicted about it, and have been trying to work out how to get rid of it.
A cheesy rhyme sprang into my head the other day and now whenever I start to get mad, I think: "Swap swear words for prayer words."
It's groan-worthy, but it's working.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
A good steady comfort
Our church just started a sermon series on 1 Corinthians and already I've found something strengthening.
In the last two months I've found things pretty tough and have been tired, cranky and angry inside. Some days it has been so bad that I felt like I was internally haemorrhaging bile and bitterness.
On those days I wondered about my Christian life. Surely this couldn't be good? Was I slipping? Was I really ok? Did God even care? And surely I was so bad that I couldn't be loved by him.
The passage below from the first chapter of 1 Corinthians has been a great comfort, however. The church at Corinth was in some pretty serious trouble. They had internal disagreements, anger and factions. They had sexual sin, disorder, disruptions and immorality. They had confusion about idols, prayer and conduct. They had already had a bit of a dressing down from Paul in a previous letter.
And yet in this letter, his very first words to them were words of thanksgiving.
"I give thanks to my God always for you because..."
Because of what though? Because of their great behaviour? Their wonderful faith? Their outstanding good works?
Not even close. Paul gave thanks to God for them because of God himself. He gave thanks for God's work in saving them, calling them, enriching them and keeping them safe until the end.
In my difficult state of mind, I've been thanking God for his work in my life. Even though I'm struggling, God is faithful. His work in my life is sturdy, strong and sustaining.
And oddly enough, just remembering that God's work is what it's all about, not my work, has been enough to turn my state of mind around. Things are a lot better this week!
"I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that was given you in Christ Jesus, that in every way you were enriched in him in all speech and all knowledge -even as the testimony about Christ was confirmed among you - so that you are not lacking in any spiritual gift, as you wait for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ, who will sustain you to the end, guiltless in the day of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is faithful, by whom you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord."
1 Corinthians 1:4-9
In the last two months I've found things pretty tough and have been tired, cranky and angry inside. Some days it has been so bad that I felt like I was internally haemorrhaging bile and bitterness.
On those days I wondered about my Christian life. Surely this couldn't be good? Was I slipping? Was I really ok? Did God even care? And surely I was so bad that I couldn't be loved by him.
The passage below from the first chapter of 1 Corinthians has been a great comfort, however. The church at Corinth was in some pretty serious trouble. They had internal disagreements, anger and factions. They had sexual sin, disorder, disruptions and immorality. They had confusion about idols, prayer and conduct. They had already had a bit of a dressing down from Paul in a previous letter.
And yet in this letter, his very first words to them were words of thanksgiving.
"I give thanks to my God always for you because..."
Because of what though? Because of their great behaviour? Their wonderful faith? Their outstanding good works?
Not even close. Paul gave thanks to God for them because of God himself. He gave thanks for God's work in saving them, calling them, enriching them and keeping them safe until the end.
In my difficult state of mind, I've been thanking God for his work in my life. Even though I'm struggling, God is faithful. His work in my life is sturdy, strong and sustaining.
And oddly enough, just remembering that God's work is what it's all about, not my work, has been enough to turn my state of mind around. Things are a lot better this week!
"I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that was given you in Christ Jesus, that in every way you were enriched in him in all speech and all knowledge -even as the testimony about Christ was confirmed among you - so that you are not lacking in any spiritual gift, as you wait for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ, who will sustain you to the end, guiltless in the day of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is faithful, by whom you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord."
1 Corinthians 1:4-9
Monday, January 01, 2007
an interesting experiment...
Theological students at Princeton found themselves in an interesting social experiment without knowing it.
Twenty or so students doing a preaching class were in one room doing preparation on different texts that had been handed out. Every fifteen minutes a different student was called out to another room down the corridor to deliver a short sermon on their given text.
As they walked down the hallway, an actor began to groan and look distressed, almost falling to the ground in one of the doorways.
Some of the students stopped to help him. Others walked right on by.
But here's the thing: half the students were preparing their sermons on the parable of the good samaritan! Their topic, fresh in their minds, was helping their neighbour!
The question you're dying to have answered is: did the ones preaching on the good samaritan stop to help the groaning man?
Well, some did, and some didn't. The percentage of 'Good Samaritan' preachers who stopped to help was not much different from the 'randomly-assigned-texts' preachers.
The difference that was crucial was the time factor. Half the students were told they were nearly running late to give their sermon. The other half were told that they had plenty of time.
Out of the time-stressed group, only one in ten stopped to help. Out of the time-rich group, six in ten stopped.
Maybe part of effective Christianity is going to be managing our time so that we are not too stressed out about our own schedules to be able to deal with other people's needs.
Twenty or so students doing a preaching class were in one room doing preparation on different texts that had been handed out. Every fifteen minutes a different student was called out to another room down the corridor to deliver a short sermon on their given text.
As they walked down the hallway, an actor began to groan and look distressed, almost falling to the ground in one of the doorways.
Some of the students stopped to help him. Others walked right on by.
But here's the thing: half the students were preparing their sermons on the parable of the good samaritan! Their topic, fresh in their minds, was helping their neighbour!
The question you're dying to have answered is: did the ones preaching on the good samaritan stop to help the groaning man?
Well, some did, and some didn't. The percentage of 'Good Samaritan' preachers who stopped to help was not much different from the 'randomly-assigned-texts' preachers.
The difference that was crucial was the time factor. Half the students were told they were nearly running late to give their sermon. The other half were told that they had plenty of time.
Out of the time-stressed group, only one in ten stopped to help. Out of the time-rich group, six in ten stopped.
Maybe part of effective Christianity is going to be managing our time so that we are not too stressed out about our own schedules to be able to deal with other people's needs.
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