Toni Dockter: Filosophy with a Fuchsia Flair

The last few months I’ve been more stressed than usual. How do I know? I can feel it—the weightiness— like a lead cloak enveloping my body—that I want to rip off and throw in a ditch and say, “HA! Good riddance!” And gallop away like a spry gazelle wearing Louboutins. But who’s got the energy?

The worse part for me is that the stress has shown up on my face—like an uninvited party guest who hogs all hors d’oeuvres and leaves the place a mess. Now when I look in the bathroom mirror, I see a face that looks sort of like mine—only more haggard—and definitely older. YUK.

I guess if I don’t want the days of “she looks good for her age” to fade away—and I’m not even sure that is a compliment!—OR before someone says, “Hey, shove it, Granny!”—OR most important: my overall health withers (and then I have to eat crow and obey Obama and buy health insurance because I’m so decrepit), I better learn to conquer stress.

According to Dr. Phil, you gotta name it to claim it. I know what my stressors are—the basic ones like everyone else in America (bottom 99%). But the one that really bugs me is the one I identify as existential angst.

I feel like Jackson Browne’s song:

“Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels
Looking back at the years gone by like so many summer fields…

I don’t know where I’m running now, I’m just running on…

I don’t know when that road turned onto the road I’m on…

Running on empty… running blind…
Running into the sun, but I’m running behind.”

Recognizing what’s bugging you is one thing. Eliminating it is the tricky part. But you can’t back down. Your life depends on it. I’m putting on the gloves. I’ve got a game plan — more on that later.

In the meantime, to the stress factors in my life and yeah, I’m talking to YOU—you dastardly dregs of devilment that bedevil my life—get off my back—and most of all, get out of my face!!

Guess which one is me.