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Anxiety: Rock. Hard place.
Fri, 09 Jun 2006

There are many flavours of stress - varied shapes, sizes and textures. I'm fortunate to be generally low stress (or perhaps have a really high threshold - not sure which :), and I'm the sort to just let kruft roll on off. Still, after months of too much and too hard work I find its the little things that add up; when stupid things don't go as you expect (toss something onto the couch and it bounces off or you get cut off in traffic); worse still are the minor interuptions when you just want to have 5 minutes to set your mind straight. The phone will ring, someone will ask or need something, the doorbell bongs -- that stuff will cave your skull in left unchecked. Fine. But thats not what I'm writing about. No my friends, for today I'm just whining. Okay? Indulge me, or stop reading now :)

Sometimes things stress both of us out; you know the sort of thing, we all go through it -- bad news, or difficult decisions -- heck, everyone whose ever bought a house, moved, or changed jobs knows what I'm talking about. Whats funny is that my wife is my rock, and I'm hers, but if we're both stressed out -- who is our rock? After a tough day I can always come home and the rough edges wash away just by getting nearer to my wife and home.. but what if we're both stressed? She comes to me for help, of course, since I'm her guy.

But who do I get to dump on?

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