Watching things go down at the bar this weekend, you would have thought that there was something serious and heavy going down. Stress levels generally rise on Saturday nights as we approach the 1:40 last call — it’s the nature of our schedule, I think, and the fact that we almost always start off Saturdays dead and end up three deep at both bars around midnight. It makes getting into the swing of things difficult, but Jason and Garth and Mariel and I almost always keep level by drinking enough to keep us on a happy plateau and joking about feeling the Hate. This weekend, though — not so much joking.

And later on, finding out what it was all about — honestly, at this point, all I can do is scratch my head and wonder. But then I think about it more, and I realize that I don’t stress nearly as much as most people, and that makes it hard for me to relate.

It’s not that I don’t get angry, or have flashes of an extreme temper. I do. In fact, I’m apt to snap at seemingly nothing on a long night. But that’s it — I shout a little, or get blunt and rude with someone, or (once in a blue moon) punch a wall, and it’s over. I’m back to Happyville. I’ve never really gotten the point in hanging onto those tensions and letting them eat away at you.

Granted, part of it has a lot to do with my whole philosophy of the universe unfolding as it should. And I don’t say that as though I have no control or input about the way things turn out; I don’t believe that I’m predestined to do every little thing that I’m going to do, that I’m just running on autopilot (good lord, if you really think that’s the way life goes, you might as well go ahead and kill yourself now; what’s the point?). In fact, after reading Vonnegut’s Timequake, I now have the notion of having to relive a given number of years constantly nagging at the back of my skull, so I do my best to make sure that I won’t be stuck in a nightmare if that ever happens.

No, I just think that things have a way of working themselves out, for better or for worse (depending on your perspective). If you fuck up and make a mistake, you can make it right (although it might be a different idea of right than what you imagine or hope for). If things are going bad for you now, then you can do any number of things to make life better. Your alternative — the one that I think most people opt for — is to obsess and stick yourself in a loop of worrying and bitching and complaining.

The problem here is twofold, though — you carry that stress, it festers and grows and rots and eats away at you, giving you sore shoulders, bleeding ulcers, and a rather displeasing aura. It also doesn’t solve or accomplish anything; the problem that is causing you all the stress isn’t going anywhere, and therefore the stress and tension is sticking around as a nice foundation for all the other to sit upon.

I can’t remember who said it to me, but you can’t move forward if you’re constantly busy looking behind you. And that saying can be applied to many contexts, but this one’s included. It always reminds me of the Serenity prayer (is that the name?) — the one that asks for the wisdom to know what you can change, the strength to change what you can, and the patience to accept what you can’t (or something; religious catchphrases aren’t exactly my strong point).

And that’s when I start to see and understand a little better: those of you who are carrying steel cables in your shoulders, puking blood for seemingly no reason, feeling lightheaded and dropkicking the gallon of milk just need to start letting go of the things that are out of your hands (worrying isn’t going to make it any better, yeah?), and doing something about those things that are in your control.

Look, I’m bipolar. I don’t sleep nearly enough — maybe four hours on a good night. I don’t sleep because I’m too busy working or dealing with side projects. I take terrible care of my body — I smoke two packs of cigarettes a day, I drink too much, I forget to eat at least two days out of every week, and what I do eat could hardly qualify as a balanced diet. And yet even with all that, I manage to keep my stress levels under control, and I mostly feel pretty good about things, no matter how they are, because I know what I can change (and I actively work on changing what I’m not happy with, instead of passively pondering) and I know what I can’t change (and I don’t sweat that stuff).

I’m not saying that it’s that simple — just snap your fingers and you can change a lifetime’s habit or worrying (although I do think it’s possible, if you believe it to be that simple). But it’s not magic, brain surgery, or quantum physics. It just takes practice and a little self-awareness.

Just think how much money you’ll save on Maalox, and how nice it will be to eat spicy food again. Oh, and to have all the irritants out of your life. That’s what sold me.