I have a hard time relaxing. Like even right now as I write this, I was actually trying to force myself to nap because I only slept three hours the night before, but instead my mind wandered and here I am, writing. Not napping at all.
I spent my entire day trying to do things that are relaxing. I had my nails done, I got my hair done and I walked into Sephora and ended up being bushwhacked into getting my make-up done. In the interim, I had three complete strangers tell me to relax.
“Relax your hands!” the manicurist shakes my arms and laughs, “I can’t do your nails if you aren’t relaxed.”
I was so taken aback by her request because, well, I thought I already was.
When I went to have my hair done, the woman washing my hair gently taps my neck, “It’s okay,” she says, “You can relax.”
On the way home, I stop at Sephora because I was out of eyeliner, a constant problem for me. I run out of eyeliner the way some people run out of milk. One of the bored make up artists notices me lingering just a moment too long and tricks me into letting her glam me up a bit. In the middle of trying to apply mascara she gently presses my shoulders down. “It’s okay,” she laughs, “You can relax.”
I wanted to shout, “I am relaxing!” I was relaxing as best I knew how but apparently, I don’t relax. I need to know what I’m doing wrong because I really thought what I was doing was relaxing but evidently relaxing to me just feels a lot like worrying.
This probably started early in life. I’ve never known my mother not to worry. I’ve never seen my father without a furrowed brow. Though, at a very young age my mother told me sternly not to wrinkle my forehead because that’s how you get lines. “I once saw it in a Doris Day movie,” she told me. Consequently, I have no idea how to even wiggle my eyebrows. I will, however, be the only worrier I know without worry lines.
One less thing for me to fret about.
I’m trying to force my shoulders below my ears as I write this but I’m getting so stressed out about being stressed out.
Oh, I should probably also mention I’m on a plane right now. A plane that’s two hours delayed from the original time it was supposed to take off. I’m scared of just about everything and I worry about things I shouldn’t but at least I don’t have a fear of flying. Or I didn’t until the guy next to me at the gate – a full-grown man mind you – started shouting that the plane wasn’t taking off because of “engine trouble”. Naturally my brain, which already has a penchant for worrying, wanted to desperately believe him on three hours of sleep.
Before we took off, I texted my friend Chris – whose job is basically a real life Flight Control game – to ask him if he knows what’s up with my flight and if it’s engine trouble. He explains that the guy at the gate is an idiot and that if there was any real trouble with the plane, they’d just cancel the flight or change planes. “Don’t worry,” he replies back. And so I try not to.
When napping on the plane doesn’t work for me, I decide to go back to my old stand-by, reading. I open my Sarah Vowell book, Take the Cannoli. I had read it before but years ago. It’s a set of essays, not chapters, so I figured it would be a good book for the plane.
I open it up to where I left off, a new essay starting on page thirty-five. I began to read in clear Garamond, “When the plane is going down, you suddenly feel the urge to hug that smelly, snoring person in the seat next to you. Because nothing brings people together like doom.”
My shoulders go back up and I close the book.
Photo courtesy of http://www.flickr.com/photos/jeffreyww/
Now i’m in fact pleased to leave the text messages in the blogposts, I might nice to listen to one more ideas that you and readers. Our god Thanks and also your wonderful spouse and children and also most joyful.
Hello, mother?
I am totally the same. I missed my bus home once because I was so worried about finding my sister to make sure she got on the bus. We were in elementary school and it was our first day and I was a year ahead of her in school. As soon as they announced our bus was there I went from my 2nd grade classroom to her 1st grade classroom only to find out she had gone to the bus already. When I got to the door I saw the bus pulling out of the driveway. I had to wait and get a ride home with the principal because he was a friend of my grandparents and we were living with them at the time. I mean I was a 2nd grade worrier! I’ve been tense and worrying ever since.
I could have written this. I always knew I had a stress problem, but I don’t think it sunk in how out of control it was until I went in for a chiropractic consultation which included a massage. During the hour-long massage the massotherapist probably told me at least half a dozen times to relax my arms or shoulders so he could do his job. I thought I was, was in fact TRYING to, and I still wasn’t relaxed. :::sigh:::
I should have known this would be my life. We used to have to prep my Gma for family events at her house because she would literally worry herself sick if we didn’t plan every last detail ahead for her.
I can relate to this article so much! I can’t relax without my mind wandering. Even when I’m trying to fall asleep my mind is thinking of so many other things that it keeps me awake (or sometimes tires me out and I fall asleep mid-thought!). Yesterday I was getting my blood pressure taken and the nurse said, “Relax your arm.” I wanted to say, “I thought it was relaxed!”
And I guess that wasn’t the best essay to read on a plane! haha. I decided to watch Soul Surfer on a plane a few weeks ago as we headed to an island where I was going to be spending lots of time in the ocean. Not the best idea either!
mediation helps! but i feel your pain. or stress.
I feel like you are telling me nerve-wracked story here. Absolutely every time I am getting a manicure, at the salon or basically any time I need to quietly hold still and let some relative stranger put their hands on me – I get told to relax. I also feel like I am relaxed – damnit. What else could relaxed be if I’m not it? Every masseuse tells me my shoulders are as tense as they have ever seen. I guess that despite my impressions, I am a worrier. My normal is everyone else’s freak out.
I have never related to anything more in my life. Should you figure out some kind of secret, make sure to share it with me. Because I can’t relax to save my life either. Even on Xanax my body doesn’t let me chill. I have knots all along my shoulderblades, which is where I carry my worry. And I know logically that my worrying cannot and will not change anything that is going on in my life, and that I’m just making it worse, but I worry. Because it’s basically my constant state in life. Argh.
I am always catching myself having my shoulders up to my ears. As for worry lines? I have one between my eyebrows. I think my face is permanently stuck as being worried or looking on edge. Do you have a knot in your back too? Stress is a bitch.
You should get a massage, it helps, believe it or not. I should get one soon.
..I’m also going on a plane in two weeks. lol, oh man. Love this article though.
xo