Stress-induced rainbows

I was sick this weekend.  Scratchy-throat, hoarse-voice, body-aching, hot-toddy-demanding, sick.  Long-run-missing sick.  And I was sad and upset and frustrated, but I was also thankful.  Because I didn't have to miss any work days.

When did I become adult enough to think that, if I have to get sick, I'm glad the illness chooses to attack me over the weekend?  I mean, really, when did "being sick" go from being the semi-joyful get-out-of-school-free card to the crap-I-need-to-suffer-through-work card?  It's just too stressful to be sick during the work week.

And that brings me quickly to today's topic: stress.  In college and high school, I thought that stress was a self-imposed state of mind.  That with enough forethought and proper time management, stress could be avoided.  This is not to say that I didn't feel stress, and plenty of it, it's just that I thought it was my fault.  I thought I was feeling it because I made poor choices.  And all my stressed-out classmates were making poor choices too.  Because we were kids, and kids make poor choices for so many reasons.

But now, at the old and wise age of 28 and 5/6ths (please note the sarcasm in that statement), I realize that some stress is unavoidable.  No matter how much you try to stay in control of the car of life, sometimes there are just bigger cars, more powerful forces than fuel, or even simple wear and tear that drag your little car off its intended course.  As much as you try to avoid it and stay in control in the driver's seat, sometimes life just happens to you.

And this past week, man I felt like work life was certainly happening to me.  And it had absolutely nothing to do with the kids.  Or even the act of teaching itself for that matter.  There's a teaching blog I read written by a few National Board Certified Washington State teachers (www.storiesfromschool.org), and for the month of October they chose as their theme to write about the "invisibles" of teaching.  All those things that anyone not in the teaching world never gets to see or hear about.  All the daily (or sometimes not daily) minutia of being a teacher--all the planning, training, grading, reading, thinking, talking, pencil sharpening, copy-making, classroom managing, behavior managing, reflecting, meetings, meetings, and more meetings--that are an integral and exhausting part of the world of teaching.

Last week, I felt like I was drowning under the invisibility cloak of teaching (yes, that was a Harry Potter reference).  Only my close colleagues, trapped under the invisibility cloak with me, could see me drowning.  But they couldn't help, because they were drowning too.  Drowning in grading, report cards, meetings, trying to understand a new grading system that no one quite understands yet, trying to fit it all into the little amount of time allowed in the day.

And all the while, Hurricane Sandy was ravaging NYC and the rest of my home state and those that neighbor it--literally drowning those places and some of their inhabitants--making me feel guilty for wallowing in my metaphorical drowning.  And where do you go from there?

So, instead of employing my typical stress-relief strategies, which involve a lot of awkward self-talk: "Calm down Tessa, it's all going to be OK...The world will not end...Life will go on...You will get through this like everything else...In 5 days, you'll look back at this week and laugh...You will get it all done, have faith in yourself..." (luckily most of this talk happens in my head), I freaked out.  I even almost contemplated skipping my Tuesday run with the Team (thank goodness I didn't, it was the best thing that happened all week).  Instead, I got angry.  I got frustrated.  I got stressed.

And then I got sick.  Big.  Surprise.  I never get seriously sick (except for the whole STP disappointment, but that's another story).  Despite being surrounded by 23 snotty, coughing, sneezing, non-hand-washing 1st graders, I typically have an immune system of STEEL.  But on Friday, as I stumbled my way through the day, trying to check off items on my to-do list--skipping what had to be one of the most entertaining after school staff baby showers known to humans--I felt myself getting sicker and sicker.  The throat growing scratchier and more painful.  The neck becoming so painful I couldn't turn my head.  The headache pounding deeper and deeper.  And I blame it on the stress.  My body didn't want to handle it.  At the end of the day, all I wanted to do was go home and sleep.  For ever.  But I couldn't.  Because I had invisibles to take care of.

I knew it was bad.  I pre-warned Erica, who I had planned to carpool with to Saturday practice, on Friday evening with this oh-so-eloquent text:

Not so creative with words when I'm sick.

I thought I could rally.  I thought I could make it to my long run--there were 110 minutes on the schedule (probably about 12+ miles), and I wanted to run.  When I was training for the Victoria Marathon, I had a completely clogged nose and sinuses that oh-so-nicely cleared up for the duration of the run, then reversed vacuumed itself back after I was done.

But not this time.  My 6:15 alarm went off and the thought of getting out of bed, let alone running 12+ miles seemed PAINFUL.  So Erica, being the wonderful friend and person she is, came and picked up the supplies I needed to deliver to practice that day, and picked up Ironman/Coach Jason (who I was also planning to deliver to practice that day) from his place nearby.  I said a very hoarsey-voiced, disgruntled thank you and proceeded to go back to sleep until 11 AM.  I slept for 13+ hours.

Then I did some work for 3 hours.  Then I fell asleep again for 3 hours.  Then I ordered egg flower soup (AKA egg drop soup) from the Chinese restaurant down the street for dinner, watched a few episodes of Game of Thrones, and fell asleep for another 9 hours.

Sunday, when I woke up, I wanted to run.  I still only felt about 70%, but I wanted to get my long run in. I was determined.  So at 9 am, I stepped out the door, ran Lucy on an extended loop around Green Lake, about 4.5 miles, dropped her off, and then suffered through another 6+ miles.  It was slow.  There were walk breaks on hills involved.  It was painful.  But I got it done.

Because I could.  Because Hurricane Sandy did not destroy my home or family or life.  Because I was not so sick that I could move my legs and get my body going (like at those people with blood cancers that I'm raising money and running for).  Because stress would not bring me down.

Earlier in the week, in a fog of stress as I was driving home from work, I saw this:

A rainbow and a burst of sun on a gloomy,rain-filled Seattle day.  Not the
first I've seen in the past few weeks.

And as I was driving, trying not to get in a car accident while staring at it, I was thinking.  Even though Seattle sees more rain than most cities out there, we also get to see way more rainbows.  And the more rainy days we have, the more beautiful rainbows we get to see.

And now, as I look back on this past week of stress and sickness, I realize that sometimes you may feel like you've lost control in the driver's seat, or you're drowning under an invisibility cloak.  Sometimes life happens to you.  But you'll get through it.  You'll take back control and start swimming again.  And then when you see the sun, and the rainbow at the end of the road, it'll seem all the brighter.