I was thinking about that quote when I was asked by my girlfriend early Saturday morning about why I’ve been so stressed lately. The observation was made before I had my first cup of coffee, but not long after I’d just awakened, soon noticing how cloudy of a day it was through the blinds of the bedroom window.

To preface, I’m not necessarily stressed out. That’s not really my natural state of being. I’m a carefree soul, at least at my core. More so, I’m extremely overwhelmed and exhausted, physically and mentally, with work, life and everything else under the sun.

And I would surmise you (yes, you) probably feel the same way, too. Don’t we all in the digital age? In all truth, I do feel like I’ve been hitting the wall in recent months. Years of running on all cylinders to meet deadlines and juggle daily life, this undulation of plate-spinning tasks and making sure everything is balanced and happy.

To which, I then thought of another Holly Golightly line: “The blues are because you’re getting fat and maybe it’s been raining too long, you’re just sad that’s all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you’re afraid and you don’t know what you’re afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?” 

As I got out of bed and started to try and scratch the surface of just what lies beneath the unknown depths of my thoughts and emotions to my girlfriend, this random idea illuminated in my head. Why don’t I just write a list of what things are constantly in my mind that not only cause stress and distress, but feelings of anxiety and depression that, perhaps, lead to miscommunication between my partner, my friends, family and happenstance strangers.

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So, I grabbed a journalist’s notepad from my work bag, a beloved writing utensil (Sharpie S-Gel) and sat down at my post-modern desk in our humble abode, all while weekend traffic roared by on a bustling Russ Avenue just outside the apartment window.  

Within about five or 10 minutes, I’d already filled one entire page. Both columns of a single page were covered with numerous bullet points of things either always on my mind or currently putting pressure on my existence, work, relationships and how I try to conduct myself. I counted the bullet points. There were 42.

Nonstop deadlines for the newspaper and our travel magazines. Deadlines for Rolling Stone. Maintaining a balance between my loyalty and duties with The Smoky Mountain News and one foot in the door with my lifelong dream of writing for Rolling Stone.  

Keeping my truck on the road for work and play. Being able to afford rent in a town (Waynesville) I’ve called home for 12 years. I don’t know how much longer I can do so based on unreal rent increases in our backyard. Not being able to afford a home of my own in Western North Carolina. Squeezed out of the market years ago, with agreeable rent my only life raft.

My aging parents and what that means moving forward with one turning 82 next week, the other now 75 as of this past January. Seeing them get older and there’s nothing I can do about it, but spend as much time with them as possible, happily and together. Thoughts of my aunt currently in the hospital with a grave outlook. Strained relationships with estranged family members elsewhere. 

Chronic pain in my foot that will need surgery, but where will the money come from? Chronic pain in my nose that will need surgery, but where will the money come from? Personal sadness over both the foot and the nose. Being a former college athlete of speed, grace and ability now dissolving into a slowed runner of shuffling (when the foot hurts) with skewed breathing due to a broken nose years ago that never healed completely (or correctly).

Growing distance from old, dear friends and failed attempts to secure new, dear ones. The hardships of being an older male and finding kinship with peers of the same sex. Those bonds are eternal, albeit rare in occurrence. They’ve also grown up and moved on, where sometimes I feel left behind. I miss them and I wish we could see each other more. 

Being able to afford health insurance even with an enormously high deductible. Sacrificing sanity, logic and reason for lifelong dreams in the face of adversity. Finding stability, financially and creatively, in the written word, an industry in constant flux and chaos. Hate mail from readers (email, letters, texts). Hate from the general public in person and in real time.

Stress of saving money and trying to build a future together with my girlfriend. Stress of not taking a break from work (I can’t remember the last time I took a trip that wasn’t work- or family-related). Stress of getting older. Stress of past mistakes (when I could’ve been a better friend, boyfriend, person). Stress of being a good partner and there for her in her time of need.

Alas, all of the above and more (much more). The point of the rant in the previous paragraphs is not to garner sympathy and pity. Not at all. It’s more about solidarity in the old adage that “everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.” It’s a sentiment I’ve always held close to the chest. It’s a pillar of how I conduct myself, personally and professionally.

That said, the funny thing was, once I wrote all of these things in my mind down, I felt an immediate pressure release from my body, mind and soul. It’s the same reason I became a writer in the first place — once it’s on the blank page, it’s a relief of self.

I handed the notebook page of bullet points to my girlfriend and she read through it over a cup o’joe. Finishing it, she put down the paper and walked over to my desk, leaning down and hugging me. We talked a good while thereafter and felt common ground was once again achieved between the two of us. If you’re in the same boat, I suggest you find a piece of paper and do the same. It’ll help. 

Life is beautiful, grasp for it, y’all.