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The Stress I Carry
Stress, one of the heaviest things I carry, has been with me for as long as I can remember. Stress has always been one of the constant factors in my life. It is completely invisible to everyone else, but at times it is the only thing I focus on. It feels as though “what if?” is the only question that my brain can process, swirling through my head along with all of the negative outcomes possible. It’s like having an annoying little sibling following you around and telling you that if you don’t do all your homework right now, whether it is due in 2 weeks or in 2 days, you are surely going to fail and then you’ll be haunted by the bad grade that it will forever leave you with. It is definitely a tough mindset to break out of, comparable to breaking out of a prison cell. It has always been a long and tiring back-and-forth fight.
A heavy mass that I have always carried, a weight that has always been in the background of my life, stress. It has gotten better over time, but nonetheless it still pops up here and there to take control. I have tried many methods to cope with the stress I get, with only a select few that have actually shown results. These methods eventually fade and stop working, almost as if the stress has grown around them like a tree growing around an obstacle in its way. I am almost always resorting to reading articles online about how to manage stress, and usually I have already tried most of the methods listed. My stress is like a tree, always growing taller and bigger and stronger, leaving me to the job of slowing it down. Slowing it down is similar to trying to stop an inevitable storm.
The long rows of blank white tiles, with yellow-stained ceiling panels, is where the stress I encounter considers its personal playground. The hallway is narrow and long, filled with stares of people, loud voices and teachers all around. The few scattered brightly-colored posters and signs are everywhere, with some torn and littered on the ground, constantly getting covered in the shoe prints of hundreds of students. The hallway brings out a feeling of anxiety, with students cramping and pushing their way to their classrooms, as if 5 minutes goes by as fast as 30 seconds. The halls are often home to the sound of phones dropping on the floor, and the many pencils carelessly kicked around across the tan tiles. As you navigate your way through, the faint voices of teachers yelling at students to put their phones away are always lingering. The halls are a place of chaos, perfect for stress to come out and play.
Dark brown hair, brown eyes and pale skin, is what you may see when you see me. What most don’t see, is what actually affects me the most. The looming presence of stress nearly consumes me. I have learned to accept stress as more of a motivator, rather than a burden. I have learned how to cope with it, like learning to have patience when helping someone. Stress has become a part of me, to the point where I can’t completely tell some days where the stress ends and I begin. I feel as though stress is an extension of myself.
Although stress has often been a tiring aspect of my life, I have learned to take pride in it and accept the fact that I wouldn’t be entirely who I am today without it. Sure it has given me plenty of hard days and struggles, but in the fact that it has largely shaped who I am, I have learned to accept it. I have learned that some days it will do what it wants, while others it lets me have my freedom. Acceptance has been the biggest struggle of my journey living with stress, but it has also been one of the most rewarding lessons.
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My name is Kylie. I'm 16 years old. I have been dealing with stress for as long as I can remember. For me, writing has always been an outlet not only for validating my thoughts and feelings, but as well as coping with the stress that has seemed to follow me for years now.