What a strange and wonderous thing stress is. Stress, of course, being any stimuli that has the potential to change our physical or mental status quo.
Finding fire ants all over my feet was a stressor. My body went into hyper-overdrive and I did the Ant Dance all over the yard until they were all dead.
Enduring the approach and subsequent passage of a hurricane from the questionable safety of my home was quite a stressor, as was having bits and pieces of my family in my home at different times. Two for the price of one.
Knowing that I'll have more responsibility on my shoulders now that I learned a good chunk of RMB's job is a stressor, but that stressor is so counterbalanced by pleasure that it doesn't really count.
I remember clearly the day I first learned the word "stress." I had finally found The Reason for most of my life-long ups and downs. Unfortunately, learning the word didn't also come with subsequent lessons on how to deal with this stimulus.
As the years have progressed I have successfully failed to deal very well with it, but that's okay. I figure that at this point I'm still alive, so that's got to be something in my favour, right? I'm long since past my occasional adolescent thoughts of suicide being a better thing than trying to deal with Life. Long ago I came to the realisation that life is short, and death is awfully damned long.
So, at this point I just suck it up and go on, grimly if I have to, holding my head up when I can. And when I hear of someone else who has more stress than I do, I think to myself "See, it could always be worse." And when I hear of someone who deals with a tremendous stress load, I always wonder what exactly it is that makes these people excel, standing as they are so close to the edge. And I think to myself "Bugger that for a game of larks."
Me, I like it well back from the cliff.