The modern world is full of pitfalls and struggles, and that is no more evident that when you are in your late 20’s, single, taking your 3rd human sexuality classes, working in the trenches of crisis counseling, helping a friend plan her wedding and then a box shows up and your front door. It is a package from your parents that live 2000 miles away.
It is strange how benign emotional bombs look isn’t it? They are all friendly and exciting on the outside, but the outside is just dressing. The destructive force of the bomb is not why you see on the package, but the contents. The elements of the bomb may seem harmless when taken on their own, or presented in a different circumstance.
The day was busy. Started off finishing up the VERY rough draft of a paper that is due on Wednesday. Then I showered, got dressed (and looked cute if I do say so myself) and had a friend give me his advice on the paper since the subject is about men and I can read all the textbooks I want, but I’ll never be a man, so getting a male perspective seemed appropriate. That went well. Then I went and spent a few hours with a girl friend and had dinner with other friends, and an evening with a dear friend. All good. It was a good way to start the weekend.
So, I was in a good mood when I got home. I unloaded my car, set stuff in the hallway and checked my mail. I saw that my Mom had sent me a package. Always exciting. The last package I received from her was full of some of my favorite books. It was a package from my Mom, she knows me. Maybe not as well as some of my friends, but she is my mom, so she knows the major aspects of my life.
I took everything inside, greeted Queenie, opened my mail and then set about to open the package, what would turn out to be an emotional bomb that for an hour wrecked havoc before I could regain a semblance of control.
I pride myself on being calm in the midst of chaos and of knowing how to deal with life. I have been dealt enough S++T that I’ve had practice, and while I ROYALLY struck out the first few times, I’ve gotten better at ignoring the crap and trying to focus on the good. Last year was a good example. 2009 had some high highs, but a LOT of lows. Burying friends is NEVER easy, especially ones that died at my age. Those weren’t the only hardships. I was diagnosed with an auto-immune disease that means changes to my life. Not easy.
Mom was probably just busy and not thinking. She probably thought I’d want more clutter in my life (a sign she really doesn’t know me---can’t stand clutter). She probably thought “Oh my daughter was raised on Pooh Bear so by gosh I better not throw anything out.” All signs that she doesn’t know me. Yes, I love Winnie the Pooh, but I have a LOT of stuffed Pooh bears that I don’t really know what to do with, and I have the dvd’s and books. Do I really need anything else (the answer is NOT AT ALL)?
My family and close friends (and now y’all) know that my biggest desire is to get married and have a family. Yes, in the back of my mind a PhD has been a dream. But school was always secondary to me. A means to an end, I hoped. Growing up I expected that I’d go to college, meet a guy, get married and that would be that.
Well, that didn’t happen for me-due to many reasons. Some of the circumstances I experienced threw me out of the dating arena. Some of the choices I made hurt my chances of finding a husband (dating an abusive drunk not a good idea). So I graduated with my teaching degree and went to work at a treatment center for two years. Still I had no husband and no real prospects.
To back track—part of my dream almost came true. For 3 months I was pregnant before Christ called my baby home. As hard as it is to say, she is in a much better place, than a world where her mom did not know who the father was and really did not want to know his name.
After teaching for a couple of years I moved across the country to work on my Master’s degree. I have always loved school and I figured that I was more likely to find a decent man in seminary than in Sheridan (nothing wrong with Sheridan guys. I love Sheridan, but I wasn’t having any luck). Two years of seminary and still no ring.
So it is now 2010 and while I have a full life and I enjoy what I am doing, there is still the void- and it is huge. Not only that but right now I am helping a friend with her wedding and I’m blessed to be a part of it all and plan to enjoy the stages and do what I can to help her big day be as close to perfect as it can be for her. I’m very excited for her. Don’t get me wrong there. It is just that when a girl is busy celebrating with a friend there is the little voice in the back of her mind reminding her of her singleness. Joy mixed with a bit of longing.
As I said I am taking a human sexuality class, and right now the focus of the class has me steeped in well…sex. God designed sex to be great, we should want to do it! God also designed sex to be done in a monogamous marriage and only in marriage. I’m not married, so while I get to read about this gift God created, am reminded of my past mistakes in the area, I’m also reminded that I don’t get to do it right now because I’m single.
A lot of my friends are married; it is just where I am in life. So there is that reminder, and then there is my apartment. I love my apartment, and I’m quite content to not have a roommate since I can afford it. It is nice to have my privacy and to know that I can have my friends over whenever and for however long I want and it won’t bother anyone. Yet, I come home to an empty, dark apartment (my cat is here but she mostly sleeps). Another reminder that I’m without the family that God knows I desire.
So, I get a package from my Mom, and she does know that I struggle with my singleness and that I wish I was married. I also know that she has been stressed with her move between Christmas and New Year’s. So maybe that played into it. So I figured it was a fun package. I open it, and it is full of baby stuff. Not MY old baby stuff, but just baby stuff. So another blatant reminder that I’m nowhere near finding and marrying a guy and starting a family! Not only is the stuff useless, it is clutter that I now have to deal with, and it is baby stuff—an in my face reminder that I’m not close to having a baby of my own.
The stuff came out of the box and the bomb went off. It wasn’t really the baby stuff, that was just the catalyst that mixed all the ingredients of my life together to result in a violent explosion. You could call it a tantrum if you want. I slammed doors, I cried, I cussed, I threw things, but I did refrain from breaking anything and I didn’t get drunk. So bad and immature, but not as violent as it could have been.
The eruption had been building for a long time. I am really good at stuffing my emotions and putting on a mask. I’m really good at convincing people that I’m doing great and that I really am joyful. All the while it is just building up inside waiting to explode. If it had been daylight (it was 10pm) I would have gone for a run, but I couldn’t so the explosion had to take place in my house. Poor Queenie I think I scared her---she is hiding under her table. A place where she knows she can be and I’ll leave her alone. It is her safe place (we all need one, and place where we can be and if we are there people know to just let us be).
Have I now dealt with everything that sucks? Probably not, but it is a start. As a counselor I should know better. I know that by not dealing with things I am setting myself up for more nights like tonight and that is not healthy. I know there are better ways of dealing with life, but I’ve just about mastered the squash and ignore method.
Tonight just reminded me of how interesting life is. Things that bring joy, like weddings can also be reminders of hardship. Benign items like stuffed animals, crib sheets, and baby blankets (and yes my Mom sent me crib sheets!) are great, when they are in the right context. I can be totally excited one minute and not so much the next minute (and right now I think I’m sounding quite female). Every mountaintop experience has a corresponding valley.
I am doing much better now, I talked to 2 wonderful friends and vented (there is always smoke after a volcanic eruption) and I feel so much better. Being a girl is wonderful that way. I know that I can call up my posse and they will listen, empathize, and let me vent and then I’ll have a small Twix bar and be on the road to moving on. Talking doesn’t magically turn the gray sky blue or move you from a glacier to the sandy beach, but it does help. It helps to admit what is going on and know that people have your back, even when crazy things that shouldn’t set me off do.
Looking at it, I know that I just had too much going on, and it was bound to happen and tonight, the baby stuff was just the catalyst and Mom didn’t do it with a mean spirit. She loves me, and she knows I enjoy Winnie the Pooh, she just got too busy and stressed herself and didn’t stop to think that 1. I don’t care about blankets and sheets and stuff, I’m not fanatical about Pooh like I am the Packers. 2. It would just remind me yet again that I’m single. Mom loves me; I don’t doubt that, it just happened that unfortunately her package was the last straw.
I now plan to work hard Saturday morning on my paper, go to my hair appointment in the afternoon, come home and work some MORE on my paper, then spend an evening with a friend chilling. Sunday morning will be spent in the TRBC choir loft worshipping my beloved Savior, then home to…work on my paper, church in the evening and then working on my puzzle (and you thought I’d use the other ”p” word)! So it should be a blessed weekend indeed and this paper which if I were to grade it would receive a D (which is about where all my rough drafts start) is going to be refined and worthy of an A by the time Monday evening rolls around. It needs work (I have a method that hasn’t failed me yet, you just don’t want to see early drafts… maybe shouldn’t have let Morgan read it today…it is UGLY but it will turn into a swan, I promise).
Now to go and reassure Queenie and buy my way back into her good graces!
