I was reading an article about the differences between good stress and bad stress. When I finished the article, I was laughing out loud.
I know–me laugh? That’s ridiculous.
The article said that bad stress is similar to being a soldier on the front lines. That would make sense. I mean, you are looking at a potential loss of your life, not to mention a limb or a bodily organ. That’s a pretty stressful situation. I then thought of other ‘bad stress’ type situations. Maybe having your car stall on train tracks while there is an oncoming train could be stressful; especially if you just bought the damn car. Being stuck in the middle of a dog fight can be another bad stress situation. Dog bites, and more particularly, dog claws and scratches are extremely painful. They can also leave some very emotional scars.
When I walk my dogs, some people won’t even look at them–or me. They’ll cross the street. They’ll stop and back off about ten feet so I can walk past them. They are frozen in their tracks with a wide-eyed look of fear.
I’m pretty sure it’s just the way I look and not the dogs. I have to get my drooling and mouth foaming under control.
That reminds me to refill my prescription for anti-mouth foaming pills.
Speaking of animals, I believe another bad stress moment would be to see an animal getting hit by a car. Worse yet, you hit the animal with your car. This happened to me several years ago during a snowstorm. My son was in seventh grade and had been invited to a party. I went to pick him up later in the evening when the snow was about six inches deep and there was no snowplow to be found. If you live in Illinois, you can relate to phantom snowplows. As we pulled into our subdivision there was another car that followed directly behind us. With the thick snowflakes falling down onto my windshield; I saw what appeared to be a rabbit which hopped across the street about eight feet in front of my car. My first thought was, doesn’t this rabbit have peripheral vision? Does he or she know that it’s snowing and I’m in a moving vehicle? With the other car directly behind me, I know I couldn’t stop unless there was going to be some serious car damage.
I heard a bump and then saw fur flying over my windshield.
There was silence in the car. My mouth was wide opened–I tried to scream but couldn’t. I unintentionally killed this innocent little animal who was probably going out for a pack of smokes and his family never saw him again. My son witnessed the whole scenario. He looked at me stone faced and said, “What’d you do THAT for??!”
That’s bad stress.
Good stress is going to Starbucks and getting your favorite cup of calories. Little did you realize that the lid wasn’t put on correctly by the Barista. It spills on you and in your car. It’s good stress because your life isn’t in danger; unless the stuff in the cup causes third degree burns. This would then turn into bad stress because medical attention would be required while you are screaming and recklessly driving to the nearest emergency room. You’re also probably swearing out loud to the Barista; as you can imagine, I would be swearing.
When thinking about work, bad stress is starting a new business and it’s sinking like a fucking stone in the river of Debt (this is in Greece). Good stress is when you start a new business and you can’t keep up with all the work because it’s just you doing all the work while your worthless employees stand around pretending to work when they really aren’t. Along with the work scenario, bad stress is seeing someone go into the refrigerator and take your lunch bag. This lunch bag clearly has your name on it with a warning that states, “If I see you stealing my lunch, I’m going to make you give me the keys to your house, and then I’m going to drive there and stab you with your own lunch. That’s what I’m gonna do.”
I know–it’s a lot to write on a lunch bag, but it’s been stolen on several occasions. This just goes to show you how great my lunches were. Good stress is when you are enjoying your OWN lunch, but you left the tiny bottles of vodka at home.
Good stress is teaching your son how to swing a golf club when he’s six years old. I, along with my ex-husband, took our son to a driving range because he really wanted to learn how to swing a golf club. In order to secure safety for others’ around us–including ourselves, we went to the end of the driving range. Matt, my son, was doing pretty good with the first few swings. Around the tenth swing, he let the golf club slip out of his hands. I heard, “whip, whip, whip.” It was the kind of sound helicopter blades make, but at a slower pace. As I heard the whipping sounds, I saw the golf club fly through the air.
This was good stress because it seemed as if it was going to land in the grass behind us.
Then it turned into bad stress when it whiffed past the top of a lady’s head, and her red-neck husband/boyfriend/pimp started calling us “white trash.” He thought the woman had been seriously wounded by the golf club. I requested paramedics to avoid a lawsuit and there wasn’t anything wrong with her. It was bad stress–at least for me–because the man started tearing into my kid. My son apologized for his golf club flinging; my ex-husband quickly took Matt away from the scene. The red neck and me stood nose to nose as to who was going to throw the first punch. There were no injuries–he wouldn’t dare touch me in front of all of those people looking at him. It turned into a good stress situation afterward because we stopped for ice cream.
Good stress is teaching your dog how to pee and poop in the yard. After spending 30 minutes outside with him, you take him inside where he decides to poop on your kitchen floor you just cleaned. Yeah, it stinks. The situation as well as the dog poop. But at least I didn’t step in it.
That would have been bad stress; for the puppy.
Good stress or bad stress. The cure to stress is booze or exercise; or both.