Are you still thinking about it?

It's one thing when you have something legitimate to worry about. In fact, maybe you do. I do. What's frustrating is when that real problem really doesn't bother you as much as something completely idiotic.

It reminds me of my last conversation with one of my close friends. I was telling him how I've been working 6-7 days a week for a couple months now. I was casually pulling out chilling stories from my school life, and was making light of all the drama with my weekend job. "So, how do you deal with all this stress?", he asked. As I was thinking about my response, it hit me that I don't mind too much that sort of stress. Sure, I still have days when I'm about to lose it in the classroom, or when I stay late at work and cry over all my "ugh" moments of the day, so I don't sob at home. I still feel like the world is falling apart when my company credit card gets declined twice and my cart with all the materials is gone. But this stress is manageable. It's good and healthy to some extent. It's like I'm getting my dose of cortisol. It's acceptable. At the end of the day I know that I'm a can-do woman and I f'n' rock.

But then there is this "bad" stress. Something minuscule happens and no matter what you do, it stubbornly refuses to go away... In response to my friend's question, I told him that my major stressor that week was "the way one teacher looked at me"... I know. And after I get over something like this, there is not even a hint of that awesome feeling of accomplishment. It's more like "Well, that was pathetic. Thank God no one knew I was so worked up over it".
The only person I can occasionally share such things with is my husband. Somehow I don't degrade in his eyes when I tell him about worrying what someone thinks of me now, rewinding a certain conversation a gazillion times, trying to figure out what he/she meant in that dreaded sentence that bothers me so much, or when I feel awfully bad about doing something most people who were around probably don't even remember. Oh so frustrating.

Deep, deep down inside though I don't think that those things are completely idiotic. Like with that teacher's look, it wasn't "just a look". It viciously pierced me to the very marrow of my bones and made me feel like a helpless crumbled piece of paper about to be thrown away in the trash can... Score! That's how she looked at me.

Perhaps, someone's words didn't seem like a big deal to them, but they somehow had an impact on me. Maybe that should matter. I want to grow a thick skin, be cool with all sorts of things, comfortable with who I am. But what if this whole thinking ordeal will help me get there some day? Or maybe it won't and it will only waste my time... In any case, that's when writing comes in and helps. I'm done now.