Decompressing; or what happens when decompression doesn't happen.

People often (always) ask when they learn that I am a 911 dispatcher, 'Isn't that a stressful job?' I pause and then reply that yes, it is a stressful job but not in the way most people assume. It is not the major incidents (which are generally few and far between--spread out between many dispatchers and shifts, etc) that cause the most stress, but the daily garbage in, fear of "failure," regular criticism and dealing with the unhappy public that accumulates over time. Major incidents are certainly stressful and scarring, but since they are accepted by everyone as a valid stress they are easier to deal with than what seems irrational to others. Why do I feel a need to write about my experience with stress today? Well, some of you will have noticed that while I came to the Easter service this morning I quickly left in tears. I want to let you know that it had nothing to do with anyone or anything at church.

I am a stress stuffer. I am a just "deal with it" person. I am a problem solver and an emergency handler. I take on the stress so that you (and my family) don't have to. I head off so many things that other people are never aware of. However, in "just dealing with it" I also stuff the worry and stress and anxiety that come along with the issue. I stuff the leftover garbage from the day at work so that I can greet my children with a hug and a smile and jump straight into asking about their day (and truly being interested in it).

There are many ways to decompress. For some people that is long jogs or walks, video games, reading, music, etc. For me the essential key to decompression is alone time. Generally that means playing on the computer (facebook--bet you all didn't know how important our virtual interactions are) and watching crime dramas on tv (its nice to know that it could be oh so much worse lol). It means not having to talk to you (whoever you are) (ever heard me say that I hate to talk on the phone) or answer questions or deal with your stress. I listen to music or watch tv or walk on the treadmill or read or sleep or all of the above. Sometimes life flows nicely and there is regular, daily time for this self care. Other times there is not. When I work weekends it is very hard to find this time. Everyone is always home and everyone expects or desires my attention/presence. Which is a good thing. Who doesn't want to be wanted and needed? However, it is very hard to find space and quiet.

All that was said to give you a background for my sudden departure from church this morning. I got up early when Abby came into the room and wanted me to come look at her Easter basket. Then it was time to fix breakfast--which wasn't quite what they were hoping for. Then there was a kitchen to clean, garbage and recycling that were overflowing and needed to be emptied (should have been emptied the day before) and animals that were hungry (but not being fed). Add to these little things a mad rush to get everyone showered and ready in time for the service (which someone had determined was at 10:30 not 10:15) and I was a very tense ball of anxiety. There was a brief conversation with my mom about my friend who had suddenly lost her father yesterday morning and this brought a brief conversation about the sudden passing of my dad a few years ago. It was perhaps too brief of a conversation--bringing up the memories but then stuffing them because we needed to get ready for church. I actually sat on the couch with Abby and asked if she would be too terribly disappointed if I didn't attend church with them today. To which she, predictably, replied that she would.

So, we left for church. When we arrived we realized that we were a few minutes late. We began looking for seats and while there were a few spaces they were hard to find. So, you might say that yes, it was the difficulty with finding a place to sit with my family that made me cry and you would to a small degree be right. In reality though, it was just that I had stuffed so much stress and anxiety that one more tiny thing combined with the presence of a great deal of people and a great deal of perceived expectations and my inability, suddenly, to meet them was just too much to stuff and so I cried. It is what happens when I don't decompress. I also determined that I was not going to stop crying and that would be distracting to others who were there for a joyful celebration of the resurrected Christ I wasn't sad. Not at all. I was tired. Infinitely tired.

I told my sweet girl that mommy was going to cry and had to leave & she should go sit with her brother. She apparently is quite okay with mommy's random tears because she just said 'okay' and enjoyed the rest of the morning (she told me about it later). My plan was to walk home or catch the bus because I realized that really I just needed space, but my sweet husband took me home (missing much of the service himself). I came home and I cried until I fell asleep. By the time the family came home I felt one hundred percent better.

The bottom line is that I was not sad & if you had asked me what was wrong I would have told you nothing & I would not have been able to explain. (I have, most likely, even neglected to mention more stressful things that have been stuffed and not yet dealt with --or which I am in the process of "handling")

Is it a stressful job. Yes, of course it is. Extremely stressful. But most of the time I deal with it just fine. But sometimes I don't and that's when I just need to step away from the world and what I perceive as its expectations and remember that I am no good to anyone if I am not first caring for myself. Anyway, I felt like I owed a few people an explanation. Thank you for caring and taking the time to ask what was wrong. It is really good to know that I have friends who care and that perhaps you saw me leave and said a quick prayer for God to take care of whatever part of me needed his touch. It worked.

Tonight I am taking care of myself. You might think my snail hunting habit strange, but I hate those pesky slimy creatures (and their cousins the slugs). I have found my preferred method- sticking them in a Sobe bottle partially filled with water & dish soap is the most effective (albeit time consuming) method of eradication. Tonight, my hour spent in the front yard filled two bottles and I know I squished many unseen ones (I could hear them crack). I also know I didn't get them all, but I hope it helped. It helped my spirit to be out in the fresh clean air in the anonymity of the dark (well I had a flashlight). When the rain started to fall (it was a gentle spring shower) it felt good and now I watch X-Files and play on the computer and it is good and it is what I need regardless of whether anyone else understands.