Stress is something that tends to creep up on me. I am getting better at recognising the signs and am slowly mastering the actions of heading it off at the pass.

I think stress becomes those who runs at things a thousand miles an hour. Those, like me, who are irresponsible planners in life.

I can go for months without a care in the world. Exactly like those woman who get their blue period, but still wears while bike pants and does yoga!


Since turning 40 last month, and deciding to go at life like a bull at a gate and say yes to opportunities where as before I would have said no. Life has become a varied and more interesting place as a result.

I talk with my head doctor once a month about how to curtail it. Stress, that is.

Yes, I actually pay someone to share the stress! And guess what. It works. 

“How are you going?” Denise will inquire.

“Why I am absolutely fucking exhausted, thanks for asking…”

Like a lot of people, the life you live when written out on paper, seems fairly idyllic. But it is the little things that can chip away at your bubble until finally something breaks through it’s shiny surface.

My kids stress me. I love them to the maximum level, and they are terrific kids. But the constant nagging and fighting and picking up after them, and they eye rolling and meltdowns. It does tend to have a flow on effect on a gal.

I worry that I am fucking them up, all the time. I think I am doing an ok job, but in tears to my Mum the other day, during my own personal meltdown, I wailed at her…

“I am a shit motherrrrr…….”

Mum quickly snapped me out of it. I am not a bad mother, but I have moments of lapsed concentration and motivation in between those peaks of contentment.

I think that is totally normal, don’t you? In fact I have written about this before – click here.

Today I am completely over already, at the early time of 7.30am. I will make two bowls of Weet-bix which will largely go untouched. I will insist that everyone wears underpants to school. I will watch as they brush their teeth. I will referee at least a 4 fights.

I am hoping to have a shower, and god forbid wash my hair.

And then I will wave the kids off as they ride their bikes to school, standing in the street in my dressing gown and uggies, wet hair a dripping, watching the other Mum’s jog past in their small groups.

Then I will push being a Mum out of my head, try to leave the stress at the front door for the next 6 hours. I will put the weetbix bowls in the dishwasher, or maybe I won’t. And we all know what happens when you don’t do it straight away. A cement situation.

And then I will go on television this afternoon to talk about stress.

Like rain, on your wedding day. The free ride, when you already paid.

Do you feel stressed about the fact that you get stressed about stupid small things?

Any advice for a serial stress head is greatly received. But please don’t suggest pil-farties.