“I can’t work well when I am under stress. It reduces me to normalcy. Stress is my kryptonite. And I usually don’t change in phone booths, though I do take long distance showers there.”

“I do not think stress is a legitimate topic of conversation, in public anyway. No one ever wants to hear how stressed out anyone else is, because most of the time everyone is stressed out. Going on and on in detail about how stressed out I am isn’t conversation. It’ll never lead anywhere. No one is going to say, “Wow, Mindy, you really have it especially bad. I have heard some stories of stress, but this just takes the cake.”

“I was surprised by the growl that wanted to well up in my throat.... I told myself it was stress, not my illness's way of saying, Get your own take-out.”

“Driving down 93, I realized once and for all, that I love the things that chafe. The things that fill me with stress so total I can’t remember when a block of it didn’t rest on top of my heart. I love what, if broken, can’t be repaired. What, if lost can’t be replaced.I love my burdens.”

“I think that a lot of people are in love with stress. It's the dirty little secret of Western civilization. People often mistake stress for fuel.... to me, stress is just another bad drug that I don't want to do.”

“The Lost TribeHow long, how long must I regret? I never found my people yet; I go about, but cannot find The blood-relations of the mindThrough my little sphere I range, And though I wither do not change; Must not change a jot, lest they Should not know me on my way.Sometimes I think when I am dead They will come about my bed, For my people well do know When to come and when to go.I know not why I am alone, Nor where my wandering tribe is gone, But be they few, or be they far, Would I were where my people are!”