Dear Stress,

I know it's been a long time since we've spent quality time together, so it comes as no surprise that you would come screaming back to me so suddenly. I had almost forgotten how I feel when you are around.
First came word that my Grandma was dying. You were there to greet me with a smile. I thought I could handle your visit. But, then everything else starting piling on (needing to prepare and record a clarinet audition, needing to practice piano music I will never be able to play, etc) and now you've out-stayed your welcome.
My Grandma has passed. My PMS is worse than ever and this weekend looks like hell to be honest. Are you being friendly and letting me just live my life? Of course not. You have to make me cry at the drop of a dime, make my eyes constantly burn (even when employing the use of eye drops), my shoulders feel like they are higher than a kite, my stomach is in knots, I have to constantly take deep breaths so I don't have a panic attack, and I have no desire to talk to anyone. I know I usually grow a little bit once you're gone, but this time I don't see the purpose. You've got me eating the worst food available calling it 'therapy', sleeping in and being more lethargic than ever. My pants are already tighter than they have ever been. Why must you think it's funny to make them tight enough that I'll have to buy more with money I don't have?
You my think it's fun and oh so delightful to put me through a living hell again, but I have responsibilities that I CANNOT ignore. I can't afford to take a day off, nor is it really possible anyways. So, if you please...I beg you to leave. I have work, a concert, work, a funeral and more work to worry about...and then I get to sing all day on Sunday. That is usually a delight, but past experience tells me if you stick around until then, I might end up collapsing. You've done it to me before, I BEG you...please don't do it again.

Sincerely,
Heather