My Stress Response

Often, when I am stressed, my body doesn't register it as stress. I think, "I am fine, I just have to get this done. I don't know why my head is killing me and my stomach hurts. I am fine." I remember once when I was a senior in high school, I was really stressed. I had papers and projects and tests due. I was applying to college. Things were not going right. I was sitting in French class and my stomach was hurting. All I could think was, "I don't feel good, I want to go home and clean my room." I know, that's my stress response. Bodily pain and an overwhelming desire to put my physical world to right. I can't get anything done until my environment is in order. I finally convinced myself that I really was sick, so I got to call home. My mom came and picked me up. My mom is completely no nonsense. If you say you are sick, you had darn well better be sick. I remember that she asked me what was wrong, and I finally broke down crying and said, "My room's a mess!" I didn't get in trouble. She didn't fuss, or make me go back to school, or make me lay down in a dark room with no books. She took me to the grocery store. She bought me frozen chicken fettucini and a slice of frozen key lime pie. She took me home, fixed me lunch, told me to lay down for a while, and then to clean my room. Sometimes I wish I could still call home and have my mom pick me up. I would like some frozen key lime pie and the chance to put my world right.