When you’ve been with someone for a long time, you’re bound to bump heads. (Actually, sometimes even when you’ve only been with someone a short time, you’ll crash into each other too.) After all, two people can’t agree on everything all the time. Flare-ups are inevitable.
Last night was one of those times.
It wasn’t a major disagreement—nothing dramatic. More of a quiet, simmering tension. You know the type: like when couples argue about something silly, such as the cap being left off the toothpaste. It’s never really about the toothpaste, is it? It’s just the final crack in the dam. Last night was like that. (No, it wasn’t about the toothpaste.)
It was a small transgression. My fault. We have a bay window in the kitchen where several cacti live. When I closed the blinds, I wasn’t as careful as I should’ve been, and one of the plants got caught between two slats. No real harm done—it was easily fixed. But it sparked a disagreement and a stretch of uncomfortable silence. We worked it out, of course. That’s what we do.
But it got me thinking: why were we even grousing about something so minor?
Then it hit me: our collective stress level doesn’t have any bandwidth left.
Let me explain.
In every life, some stress must fall. Big ones—grief, illness, financial hardship, breakups. And little ones too—laundry, dishes, inboxes, calendars. The everyday juggling act. If we could graph our stress on a one-to-ten scale, most of us probably (hopefully?) hover in the two-to-four range on a normal day. When things are peaceful, we have room to breathe. Some margin. A buffer.
But lately? We’re running at an eight or nine. Constantly. Non-stop. It even permeates our dreams. The political climate. Financial strain. Climate crises. Global unrest. Uncertainty pressing in from every direction.
It’s as if we’re all walking around with a bad sunburn. We may look fine. We may even function pretty well. But the second someone brushes up against us—boom. Instant pain. An overreaction. An explosion that doesn’t fit the size of the offense. Moments that once would’ve rolled off our backs now stab like darts.
That’s where we are. All of us. You, me, the clerk at the grocery store, receptionists, teachers, police, letter carriers, that guy you pass every day who’s living on the street—probably even your minister.
So, if you’ve noticed yourself flaring up over something small, or feeling more brittle than usual, give yourself a little grace. And maybe give the people around you some too. It’s not just the cactus or the toothpaste. It’s the weight of everything else too.
We can’t turn the world down from a nine, but we can pause, breathe, and remember: it’s not about the cactus or the toothpaste. Not at all.
And the good news? Recognizing it—naming it—helps. Just being aware of how much you’re going through, and sharing it with others, loosens the noose a little.
One of my favorite songs is by a Canadian-born Scottish folk singer, David Francey. I know I’ve quoted the lyrics to his song Exit before, yet it continues to be just so damn appropriate:
Some walking home with shoulders bowed
None made to carry such a heavy load
[Chorus] Rich or poor or young or old
Some of us carry a heavy load
Rich or poor or young or old
Some of us carry a heavy load
As the song states, each of us carries a heavy load.
Remember that as we go out into the world, and understand that behind the eyes of everybody who is looking at us, are eyes feeling the same way inside. When we forget that, as in Rob Reiner’s classic movie Spinal Tap, the dial spins all the way up to 11. More realistically, 11 seems on the low end.
Take care. Stay well. We’ll get through this better if you’re healthy, active, and involved.
About the author: Scott “Q” Marcus is the CRP (Chief Recovering Perfectionist) of www.ThisTimeIMeanIt.com. Get his latest rants and thoughts by following him (or just reading) on Substack at scottqmarcus.substack.com/
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