Notes to self: Globetrotting writer Gaby Doman on fighting stress

Last week, after being rendered completely useless and immobile for a day, due to a stress-induced migraine, I decided to take time to de-stress. I was really excited about it. Not being stressed and spending time relaxing sounds like the most enjoyable thing in the world and because I’m not a doctor or a lawyer and I don’t have children, I thought it would be pretty easy to take some time to chill out.

Turns out, I am terrible at it.

My plans were to meditate, get massages, stop looking at my screen so often, have a bath with spa music, do yoga, stop getting so stressed on my commute to and from work [having so much contact with strangers always frustrates me — people walking slowly, not moving off the train to let you by, not being ready at the ticket gate, etc] and to not get so worked up about it if I skip a workout or eat a less than healthy meal.

None of those seem like unattainable goals and yet, I have failed miserably in achieving them.

First of all, meditating is really hard. I tried doing it a few times this week, just trying to concentrate on breathing in and out with long, even breaths, but after less than a minute my mind started wandering and, before I knew, I was not meditating anymore but Whatsapp-ing my brother or making a smoothie. I never made a conscious decision to stop meditating but, somehow, every time I stopped after just a few minutes. Possibly seconds. I have a short attention span.

The bath with spa music was about as successful. Firstly, I accidentally poured fabric softener into the bath tub [because my boyfriend helpfully keeps it in a bath foam bottle next to the tub]. So, I emptied the tub, poured another bath and only had enough hot water left to half fill it. Nevertheless, it was rather lovely sitting in a bathtub for the first time since I went on holiday to Bali two years ago [the bathtub in my hotel room was a highlight of my trip]. I popped some spa music on and laid back.

But, you know what? Spa music can be tinkle-y and irritating, especially when you suspect your boyfriend is nearby laughing at you. And my bathroom is nowhere near as fabulous as the Four Seasons’s bathroom I had in Bali. Staring at my water heater and trying to make room for my head to roll back among my bottles of shampoo and face masks in a half-filled tub wasn’t as blissful as I had envisaged my bath time to be.

The massages and yoga haven’t happened at all because I just haven’t had the time and when I do have time, I feel too guilty leaving the chihuahua puppy, my boyfriend and I are looking after, at home alone while I’m pampering myself.

In fact, I have spent this week moving house [stressful], preparing ideas for a massive meeting I have next week [also stressful] and failing miserably at strolling home on my commute without a care in the world. Yesterday, I would have, loudly, said, “I am going to scream”, when some women just stopped and blocked the path so they could browse some terrible T-shirts on a market stall. I didn’t scream, so I guess that’s some kind of good sign but I am sure I still have a lot of work to do to bring my cortisol levels down a little.

Being a nervous wreck isn’t the look I’m going for. I like the idea of being a laid-back kind of person who doesn’t get bored in yoga class and can let irritating situations go like water off a duck’s back. I had no idea how much effort it might take to make life seem effortless.