@ ~ Friday, January 17, 1992 ~ North Shore News

Coping with the stress of no stress jf

CAN WE talk?

I hope you won't mind if 1 get
fairly personal here.

The fact is that, although
famous for my barrel-chested
manliness and my snorts of dis-
dain for wimps and whiners, every
once ina while I too feel the need
for a little quiet weep.

So today I am shedding tears
and seeking the therapy of a sym-
pathetic ear and a soothing pat on
the hand from readers.

A supportive ‘There, there,
Trev ~~ we understand’’ wouldn’t
hurt either.

The fact is that I've suffered
from a pretty stiff dose of depres-
sion lately.

And — to get ahead of the nar-
tative a little — after much
penetrating thought, I finally
detertnined what the probiem is.

Stress.

Perhaps you’ve heard of it.

Like death, there's a good deal
of it going around these days. So
it’s said, anyway.

I’ve become obsessed with my
stress. This is quite a change,
because | am usually so preoc-
cupied. with solving world prob-
lems and helpfully waving traffic
along the road to Truth that I
have absolutely no curicsity about
myself.

46 The labors.of

journalism seem
to me to be far
lighter and
luckier than
- trundling
wheelbarrows of
cement or
running a string
of bordellos... 99

When you are determined to
save mankind, and the more in-
telligent and attractive members of
womankind, you have very little
time for your own insignificant
salvation.

Anyway, after spending two
sessions of perhaps 20 seconds
each reflecting on why I was
depressed, | concluded that 1 too
was suffering from the mind’s
equivalent of the common cold —
stress,

But, having identified the
disease, I’ve had a lot more dif-
ficulty determining the cause and
thus effecting a cure.

In fact, { have run through the
elements of my life and found on-
ly an inventory of bliss. .

Consider:

1 have five exceltent children
and a tall wife. (Not an unimpor-
tant advantage. She is easy to find

Trevor
Lautens

GARDEN OF BIASES

working for papers that tell people
how much stress they're experien-
cing.

Now, of course many of my
colleagues in the last 40-odd years
have complained of the ceaseless
burdens of their occupation.
Nothing but pressure, pressure,
pressure.

Far be it from me to contradict
them, But, for my part, the labors
of journalism seem to me to be
far lighter and luckier than trundl-
ing wheelbarrows of cement or
running a string of bordellos or a
funeral home.

I couldn't stand being a dentist
— could you ever kiss anyone
again? — and I'd be terrified at
being a waitress, which is my idea
of a job requiring a great deal of
talent and skill and which, in my

case, would have the added strain
of making me feel silly dressed in
women’s clothes.

I have the daily joy of rearrang-
ing our glorious language, even if
I bore people like Beverly Holman
of West Vancouver (see letters to
the editor, April 17, 1991), whom
1 could presumably insult with
impunity because she can’t
possibly be reading this. Too bor-
ing.

Anyway, returning to the point,
I think it’s accurate to say I've
put in long hours at work. Writ-
ten editorials, columns, edited and
carried out production of a couple
of pages, turned letters to the edi-
tor into English, fielded com-
plaints, proofread, winched out
possible libels, been straw boss —
sometimes all in the same day —
for the large daily broadsheet
across the harbor.

And, until a year or two ago,
after a tough Friday, was up at
4:30 every Saturday morning for
years to do it all over again for
Monday’s edition.

I mention the above not to gain
more sympathy. In fact, | wish
you'd stop weeping on my behalf.
You're soaking my shirtculf.

The point is that my duties for
the said broadsheet have changed.
Thanks to the invention of the
laptop computer and the modem,

[’ve joined colleagues like Deep
Cove’s Stephen Hume and Nicole
Parton in North Vancouver and
Frank Rutter in West Vancouver
in working from home — while
still keeping in touch through an
office in the plant.

Oh, yes: and my income is, as

If you're here to shop around instead of drive around,

stay with us.

Wait a minute.

It’s just hit me.

And here it is:

1 no Jonger have to travel over
the Lions Gate Bridge every day
at rush hour.

That’s it, that’s it!

Iam suf; fering from the stress
of having no stress.

Oh, stop it. I can’t stand your
envy. Even though it’s drier than .
your sympathy.

Rolls Royce used to say when
asked about the horsepower of its
cars, adequate.

So there you have it.

A man with a healthy family,
no mortgage, congenial work, a
regular paycheque, a generous
employer (or two), a full stomach, = -
an even fuller liquor cabinet, and
none of the heartbreak of
psoriasis.

So how can I be suffering from
stress?

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like me, you tend to get lost a
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I have 2 home that, although’
only a plain board house, as we
would say in Ontario, is paid off
and leaks only here and there.

Many people, it would appear
from reading the papers, suffer
from job-related stress.

Well, look -— it happens that i
work for those very papers. And
I’m here to swear that it’s fun

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