Not 911

“This is not 911 what is your non emergency?”

I get stressed easily and a lot. Those who know me, know I tend to overreact to situations. That’s an understatement. I freak out, I lose all semblance of reason. I run around like a chicken with it’s head cut off. I am not a pretty sight to be around. Stress causes me to imagine the worst case scenarios.

“So you’re writing fiction again?” My friend Martha remarked at my latest bout of hysterics.

You get the picture.

I worked for a blind woman who was in the process of moving to another place and she was overwhelmed and freaking out over some minor glitch that has nothing to do with the big move. Calmly, quietly I reassure her this is natural, normal and she needs to relax.

Wait, don’t hit that irony button yet.

My brother calls me with his latest fiasco, having to buy back his own bass guitar from the asshole pawn shop owner who bought it from someone who stole it from said brother. He would rather strangle the dude than give him money for what is rightfully his. "Dude," I said "chill out." There is a careful, methodical way to screw this bastard, just be cool.

Ok, now you can turn on the flashing irony sign.

I’m dealing with stress far better than I ever thought possible, I realized after dealing with these two mini crisis's. If it weren’t for my aikido training, which I credit for giving me this fortitude, I would be a babbling over medicated heap.

I still write fiction.