Where did the time go? It's nearly Thanksgiving. How do I know this? Because the assisted living facility where my daughter called to arrange transportation this weekend for my daughter to come home. Really? I actually thought it was Friday...last week. Then I was on a conference call I am on every single workday, and I jotted down my notes as usual under the date. While idly making notes and doodling, I realized that I had been writing the dates as "May" for...wait for it...ten days. And never noticed. Either I am really out of touch or...ok, I'm just out of touch.
Every article I've ever read on autoimmune diseases warn about the dangers of stress. Stress is a killer, no matter what you do (or don't) deal with. It can cause all sorts of problems in the body from the inflammation it causes. In my case, its something I get to live with every day. So what do I do? Stress myself out until I literally boil over with cold sores across my lips, down my throat, and a few zits thrown in for good measure. As long as I can remember, the cold sores on my lips signified the amount of stress in my body. This time I decided they weren't going to be as bad and I got right on them with essential oils. And it worked. They immediately stopped growing--at which point I promptly forgot to continue my treatment and three days later--yup. All across, around, and in between.
Which brings me to the next thing I know about stress. My memory goes. And not just wondering what day it is--I mean as in I started to dial the number of a conference call yesterday and by the time I finished dialing, I had already forgotten and then forgot the call altogether. The other day I went to the grocery store and when I reached the checkout, I realized I had become what you swore you wouldn't as a child--THE Mom in the store with the slippers. Wouldn't you think I would have noticed or remembered BEFORE I left for the store? Or how about the food I put in the oven, burned, replaced, then burned again?
Next up on the signs of the stress-o-meter--lack of focus. Which kind of goes with memory. And forgetting what day it is. But truly deserves a mention all its own. For example, while typing this, I have been distracted no less than five or six times and so this short little ditty started early in the morning is still getting written at 3 pm in the afternoon. In fact, after I wrote the first sentence of this paragraph, I had to check my e-mail on my phone. Just in case I missed the latest spam on how to enlarge my very absent piece of male anatomy.
Every article I've ever read on autoimmune diseases warn about the dangers of stress. Stress is a killer, no matter what you do (or don't) deal with. It can cause all sorts of problems in the body from the inflammation it causes. In my case, its something I get to live with every day. So what do I do? Stress myself out until I literally boil over with cold sores across my lips, down my throat, and a few zits thrown in for good measure. As long as I can remember, the cold sores on my lips signified the amount of stress in my body. This time I decided they weren't going to be as bad and I got right on them with essential oils. And it worked. They immediately stopped growing--at which point I promptly forgot to continue my treatment and three days later--yup. All across, around, and in between.
Which brings me to the next thing I know about stress. My memory goes. And not just wondering what day it is--I mean as in I started to dial the number of a conference call yesterday and by the time I finished dialing, I had already forgotten and then forgot the call altogether. The other day I went to the grocery store and when I reached the checkout, I realized I had become what you swore you wouldn't as a child--THE Mom in the store with the slippers. Wouldn't you think I would have noticed or remembered BEFORE I left for the store? Or how about the food I put in the oven, burned, replaced, then burned again?
Next up on the signs of the stress-o-meter--lack of focus. Which kind of goes with memory. And forgetting what day it is. But truly deserves a mention all its own. For example, while typing this, I have been distracted no less than five or six times and so this short little ditty started early in the morning is still getting written at 3 pm in the afternoon. In fact, after I wrote the first sentence of this paragraph, I had to check my e-mail on my phone. Just in case I missed the latest spam on how to enlarge my very absent piece of male anatomy.
