Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
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The soldier who sustains wounds in battle, the mother who worries about her soldier son, the gambler who watches races – whether he wins or loses – the horse and the jockey he bet on: they are all under stress.
The beggar who suffers from hunger and the glutton who overeats, the little shopkeeper with his constant fears of bankruptcy and the rich merchant struggling for yet another million: they are all under stress.
The mother who tries to keep her children out of trouble, the child who scalds himself - …they too, are under stress.
H H Selye. (1956) The Stress of Life McGraw-Hill, New York.
Ours is not a perfect world. If it were, nations would beat their swords into plowshares, we would always find a parking spot, and the supermarket line we pick would always move the fastest. And our kidneys would filter our blood at just the right speed. But it is not a perfect world, and our bodies are forever buffeted by this imperfection. We can be seriously injured or become ill. The rains may fail, locusts may swarm, and we mus
t spend a season hungry and walking miles to forage. We
may be menaced by predators or by the aggressiveness of our own
kind. Our hearts may be broken by loss. And we are smart
enough to often anticipate these perturbations, or neurotic enough to
decide irrationally that they are impending. R M Sapolsky (1992) Stress, The Aging Brain, And The Mechanisms Of Neuron Death. MIT Press, Cambridge Massachusetts.
Perhaps there are no more vivid memories than those which are stored in the brains of soldiers who have experienced excruciatingly horrible combat situations. Witness the account ….of a 50-year-old Viet Nam veteran who cannot hear a clap of thunder, see an Oriental woman, or touch a bamboo placemat without re-experiencing the sight of his decapitated friend. Even though this occurred in a faraway place more than 28 years ago, the memory is still vivid in every detail and continues to produce the same state of hyperarousal and fear as it did on that fateful day.
W A Falls and M Davies (1995) Behavioral and physiological analysis of fear inhibition. In: neurobiological and clinical consequences of stress: from normal adaptation to PTSD. Pp 177-202 (eds M J Friedman, D S Charney, A Y Deutch) Lippincot-Raven, Philadelphia
Nay, but the earth is kind to me,
Though I cry for a star, leaves and grasses, feather and flower,
Cover the foolish scar,
Prophets and saints and seraphim
Lighten the load with a song,
And the heart of a man is a heavy load
For a man to bear along.
G K Chesterton (1958) Co
nfessional In: Essays and poems ed. W Sheed. Penguin Books, Harmondsworth. Have no doubt it is fear in the land. For what can men do when so many have grown lawless? Who can enjoy the lovely land, who can enjoy the seventy years, and the sun that pours down on the earth, when there is fear in the heart? Who can walk quietly in the shadow of the jacarandas, when their beauty is grown to danger? Who can lie peacefully abed, while the darkness holds some secret? What lovers can lie sweetly under the stars, when menace grows with the measure of their seclusion?
Alan Paton (1944) Cry, The Beloved Country. Jonathan Cape, London.
…He went in trepidation about the world, holding himself in, avoiding every conceivable object of danger. He watched the others riding bicycles in Market Street and swarming up the martello tower, and wading out into the middle of one of the streams, looking for fish, and caught his breath for them, terrified by their physical ease and struck dumb by the pressure of his need to warn them, warn them. Your own fault, he would have said, listen, listen, it will be your own fault, you are to blame, nobody will help you.
Susan Hill (1971) The albatross. Hamish Hamilton, London.
They lived too many to a room. There was no sanitation. The streets reeked of shit. Children died of mild colds or slight rashes. Children died on beds made from two kitchen chairs pushed together. They died on floors. Many people believed that filth and starvation and disease were what the immigrant got for his moral degeneracy.
E L Doctorow
(1976) Ragtime. Pan Books, London