Quotes About Stress

She'd once been appalled to hear of women claiming PMS as a defense for murder. Now she understood. She could happily murder someone today! In fact, she felt like there should be some sort of recognition for her remarkable strength of character that she didn't.

Sometimes she abrogated responsibility by fantasizing about kidnappers bursting into the house, bundling her into the back of their van, and taking her away for a long rest in a nice, cool, quiet dungeon.

She had always had a slight mistrust of busy people; the sort of people who described themselves as 'Flat-out Frantic!' What was the hurry? Why didn't they just slow down? Just what exactly were they so busy doing?

Brooke was meant to avoid stress because of her migraines, not chase it, but she'd always been a martyr. Amy remembered Brooke as a little girl, high pigtails and reflective sunglasses.

Even a really bad ordinary argument, where feelings were hurt, would be so much better than this permanent sense of dread. She could feel it everywhere: in her stomach, her chest, even her mouth had a horrible taste to it. What was it doing to her health?

Building your dream home is a fast-track to divorce,

You think the world begins and ends with you and your perfect little family and your perfect little life and you think stress is finding the perfectly color-coordinated cushions for your new $10,000 sofa.

I'm having a nervous breakdown, she thought with relief. I'm about to lose my mind, and that's just as well, because this cannot possibly be fixed. It is simply not fixable.

Full-time work caused a kind of claustrophobic terror to build and build within her chest until one day there was a humiliating emotional spillage that resulted in her termination or resignation

Each obligation on its own seemed laughably easy. It was the sheer volume that threatened to bury her.

Her anti-anxiety medication was making her anxious

it got so heavy she had to turn up the radio and put the wipers on fast, panicky mode.

Looking after the baby is like taking some sort of terrifying, never-ending practical exam.

lately with work, and, you know, the baby thing. Obviously it would never happen again and he was very, very, very sorry and he loved her so much and God, it was such a relief to have this

It was annoying that the better stuff you got, the less relaxed you could be about it.

avail. I choose my mood, she told herself as she stood in the kitchen, tossing back evening primrose capsules like Valium.

You're having one of those days of accumulating misery when you argue violently with someone in a position of power: a bank teller, a dry cleaner, a three-year-old.

Think of your worst pre-match nerves. Except there's no match. It's just Tuesday morning. That's how it feels to be me.

You're having one of those days of accumulating misery when you argue violently

help" screamed silently in her head, as if she were begging for something: a solution, a cure, a reprieve. A reprieve from what? A cure for what? A solution for what? Her breathing had become shallow. She'd felt beads of sweat at her hairline. Then she'd seen the sign. Their lease at their Newtown apartment was up. The two-bedroom unit was in an ugly,

Apparently, the moment your ovaries noticed you were worried about becoming pregnant, they refused to cooperate. Oh well, if you're going to get all huffy about it, we'll just close down.

Victory consistently, train all year to be the enemys misery. No stress visibly, neither does it enter me.

God, was I going to have another day of painful thoughts jumping me every time I relaxed? The obvious solution—to just not relax—was kind of sucking.

It came to him that he didn't like holidays. . . . They bore down on you. Each one always ended up feeling like an exam . . .