I’m beginning to think I am one of those people who actually NEEDS stress in their life.  Periodically, as things settle down and chaos gives way to routine, I am confronted with the elusive and very desirable aspect of life known as “free time.”  Too much of it, however, always seemed to lead to an existential crisis. It was almost as if, when given a free moment, the mind simply started jumping to the question of “what’s the point?” Yet at the same time a life filled with too much stress was something I fought against in earnest.  Lately I’ve been thinking that maybe stress is less like my archenemy and more like a casual lover in many respects.

I’m trying to think back to a time when I had nothing going on and, honestly, I think I’d have to go back to high school to find it.  When Mark and I decided to get married, I was working as a waitress.  I picked up doubles every weekend in order to put money away for the move.  We planned a wedding, got married, and I continued to work overtime each week whilst putting together and sending off an application for my visa.  When I moved over, I was not only in a foreign country but also seeking employment.  When I switched jobs over to where I work currently, it also seemed like a logical time to move to a new flat as well.

I then began school in the fall of last year and, in order to free up time, I elected to drop most of my recreational activities in favor of studying for the Life in the UK test, beginning university science, and working full time. Except, I didn’t need to.  I passed the test and made the application for my next visa and quickly came to realize that if I stayed on top of the reading requirements for school, I still had copious amounts of free time.

Then, we got pregnant unexpectedly.

I guess the universe has a way of self correcting.

So now it was juggling full time employment with schooling and the pregnancy.  It was working out chemical equations whilst feeling highly nauseous and extremely tired.  And most days I wanted to quit everything, but instead powered through it.  And if that wasn’t enough we began looking for a property to buy as well.

After two dud properties Mark and I upped our viewing game and at 41 weeks pregnant, huge and overdue, we viewed 14 properties in a single day… and I was the one who scheduled them.  It’s almost as if, subconsciously, I was harboring an unfulfilled desire to have my waters rupture all over some stranger’s rug. We actually put in the offer on the place we are currently proceeding with the morning of the day I was scheduled to be induced.

It’s scenarios like these that make me think actually, as much as I fight against being stressed, I think I do a lot to invite it into my life as a means of giving my days structure and meaning. And I don’t mean that in a bad way either.  Consider Maddie:  having a baby IS stressful, but I wouldn’t trade her for the world and she gives my existence meaning.   Soon, we will be moving into our new property and soon, I will register for my next class at uni… due to begin in November.  I think it’s the stress that motivates me, it prevents me from asking “why?” because the why is obvious and unspoken, especially now in the sense that it can always be answered with “for Maddie.”

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