Archive for the "Me Being Crazy" Category
I’m not gonna lie, 2015 is not my fave right now. It’s not at all what I was expecting going into the new year. At the end of last year, certain things started bubbling to the surface that I was finding joy in doing — some new forms of creativity that I had set on the shelf since childhood that were beginning to reawaken. Dreams I didn’t even know were inside me began to emerge. And that was so exciting! From the outside, I may have seemed like I had things under control (maybe not? I don’t even know anymore), but I’ve never really felt like I knew what my purpose was in this life. So yeah, 2014 brought some little nuggets with it that gave me a liiiiittle more direction in that way, but this year? It’s just bringing out all sorts of ugh.
If He’s the potter and I’m the clay, I feel like the driest, crumbliest piece of dog poop mixed with clay that He found in the back under a sloppy pile of cockroach barf. It’s a refining season right now, as I’ve been encouraged to see it, but man, it just feels like there’s nothing really solid or sure in my life right now. I know this is kind of vague, but like seriously everything about who I thought I was as a person, wife, mom, sister, daughter, friend is turning out to be… just I don’t even know. These feelings! WHERE ARE THEY COMING FROM!? Deep down hurts and anger and rawr all coming to the surface at the most random times! It’s throwing me off, for real.
I’ll give you guys a tame example. Back around Christmas we didn’t have a ton of funds so I wanted to try to make gifts. I thought, since I had just discovered a new love for watercolor, I’d try making my Mom a little something. I painted some flower collage thing and was all “I’m going to be vulnerable in giving something imperfect as a gift”, because where I’m coming from, that would have been a never-in-a-million-years thing because in my mind, it would have made me look weak and imperfect. So when the time came for me to wrap it, I started out all pumped because I was stretching myself to even give something like that away, but before I even cut the wrapping paper, I turned into Hulk. Like, if you saw how many emotions came up when I was about to actually hand over a piece of “art” — which, in all honesty SUCKED — to my mother as a Christmas gift, you would suggest a mental hospital. Justin was across the table from me when I was crying, listening lovingly as I was going on and on about how stupid she’s going to think it is and how much I suck at this and I can’t bring myself to give it to her… and he sweetly encouraged me and reminded me of the truth. I went ahead and gave her the stupid thing.
My Mom said she loved it and was so gracious when she opened it which helped a little, but I still wasn’t convinced it was anything of value at all. The next time I walked into their house, I looked on the entry table and lo and behold, there sat my little stupid painting! Now how would you feel in that situation? “Awww, Mom loves me, lame painting skills and all! Happy happy rainbow chip frosting delight!” Ohhh no. My gosh you guys, I snapped. My ugly painting was not only on display, but on display for everyone who walks into their home to see FIRST THING. I went home and raged quietly in the comfort of my own bedroom, but I mean. Issues, much?
I won’t even go into all the body image wonderfulness that’s surfacing at the moment because it’s much too raw and I don’t want to subject anyone’s eyeballs to that kind of word assault right now. Just, wow. I never realized I had so much suppressed junk in there that I was carrying around with me all this time. I know it’s good that it’s coming up to the surface because that means healing is happening. It just doesn’t feel like what I thought healing would feel like. I’m determined to press on through this season though, which is a big thing for me as a former quitter. This crap is tough, but I’m not going through it just to give up partway.
You know that scene in The Sandlot where they’re having a camp out and telling the scary story? At one point, they’ve reached complete unity in their understanding of this foul creature, and simultaneously they all eerily whisper, “THE BEAST.”
I’ve used this special cart before and I guess it was like childbirth, in that I completely forgot how painful and grotesque the experience actually was. “Sure, kids! Hop on!” says I, Cool Mom. I mean, I could have carried a handheld basket because I really only had to buy like 2 things, but oh please. Too simple!
Pushing this over the yellow bumps of death at the entrance was enough to leave me gasping for air. I had to take a breather at the Dollar Spot. From there, it continued to spiral down into a pit of despair. Despair and surprisingly, laughter. This thing is like, 9 feet long, and with the Christmas crowd out and about, it took extreme caution on my part not to run over everyone in my path! I kept busting up laughing because turning corners was just ridiculous. I have no other words to describe it. And I was getting stuck on racks of clothing and and and… the list goes on, my friends.
The best part of the experience was noticing who gave a turd about my misfortune and who didn’t even mind. I think I ran over about 9 toes and no one got annoyed. I had a few moms laugh along with me, nodding their heads in sympathy, but my favorite was an older Asian man in the canned food aisle. We were at one end and he turned and began walking toward us. I was already trying my hardest to move the cart to the right side to make enough room for him. As he got closer, he started laughing and smiling with THE most sincere expression I’ve ever seen. It was the sweetest thing. He’s like, “That looks like a tough one!” chuckle chuckle. I bet he’d make a good grandpa. I kind of wanted to hug him. He might have called security at that point, but yeah.
Anyway, this thing? Funny, but never again. I brought it up on Facebook and all my friends chimed in with their own stories. Everyone knows the legend of The Beast.
Something a little out of the ordinary happened yesterday that I wanted to share with you all. It may not seem like a big deal to most people, but it had a big impact on me.
It was 8:20 and I was still in bed. The kids slept in and I had no reason to get up, other than to try to make it to my 9:30 moms Bible study, whiiiich let’s just say I wasn’t really wanting to do. I had actually told myself the night before that I wasn’t going to go, simply because I was tired right at that moment. I mean, I had just watched 5 straight hours of Downton Abbey and it was late, yo. Totally valid excuse! I’m sure you’ve all had those times when you know you should get out of bed and start getting ready for that ‘thing’, but the bed! It’s just so warm! And I’m just too tired! And I’ll never make it on time because I’m late already so why even try! And the lame excuses! Just! Keep! Coming! It was TOTALLY one of those mornings. Whether it’s work/church/appointments/school… I’ve always been this way. Procrastinator to the core. I know very well I’m going to get up and get ready for ‘the thing’ and I will only make it harder on myself the longer I stay in bed, but IT’S JUST SO DANG COZY ONE MORE MINUTE WON’T HURT I MEAN 10 MORE MINUTES WON’T HURT, RIGHT?
I got out of bed. The kids woke up and we all were fed, dressed and out the door in record time. This never happens. I did my usual “I’m late, but there’s still time for Starbuuuucks!” run because obviously I have priorities.
Some of you might remember my road rage post from last year. Well, the Starbucks over by my house attracts the most interesting people and never fails to provide unique and memorable experiences (or, weird and slightly terrifying experiences). Yesterday was no different. I was in the drive-thru, and if you can imagine this, there’s no physical barrier for the line. It’s surrounded by painted parking spots and people push their way into the line ALL the time. It drives me nuts! They will flat out cut in front of you and act like nothing’s strange or rude about it at all.
Yesterday, that happened. I was about to scoot up and a woman sped in front of me with the foulest expression on her face. Out of habit, my arm flew up in a “HELLOOO??!” gesture, but I stopped mid-flail and realized something. I didn’t feel angry. The arm came down. You guys know I’m almost always raging about something, but not this time. In fact, in that moment of clarity, I realized that she had been sitting in line when I drove up, and though she was not in the ‘correct’ line, she had still been there before me.
So this is the weird part. I said to my kids, “I’ll be right back, everything’s okay!” and I stepped out of my car. I calmly walked up to this scowling woman’s car and tapped on her window. (WUT. Do I have a death wish?!) She opened her door and harshly said, “Can I help you with something?”
I responded, “Oh no… I just wanted to apologize for cutting you off back there. I didn’t realize you were waiting in line before me and didn’t want you to think I was trying to jump in front of you on purpose.”
Her reaction? Tears in her eyes. She completely softened and that scowl on her face just melted away. Her face didn’t melt away… I might’ve explained that wrong, but you get what I’m saying. She said, “Thank you for saying that. I really thought you were trying to go in front of me.”
I said, “I just wanted to make it right with you before you drove away. Have a good day!” And she said, “You too.”
Now this is the part where I get a little deep and tell you what that meant for me. Some people would call me crazy for leaving my kids in the car and walking up to a complete stranger who was VERY angry with me, but I can’t say I regret it. Would I do it again? Well, if I had time to think things through, I would have probably come up with one of my famous excuses not have done a thing. Like, “She was the wrong one…You were in the real line… you don’t owe her anything but your middle finger” or “Don’t leave your kids in a car alone in a parking lot” (to be honest, they were only 10 feet away from me, but still… I wouldn’t have done any of this under normal circumstances). The woman would have driven out of that parking lot hating me for life and I would have probably been angry with her for quite a while as well.
I went on to my moms group. Our leader didn’t actually have any scripture for our lesson, she just talked about some things that were on her heart. One of the things she said went along perfectly with my Starbucks experience, like how we should not being so quick to judge others when we don’t have the full story or know what hardships they may be going through in their own lives. THAT. I ALWAYS do that. I struggle with feeling proud and entitled and angry when someone thinks I’m in the wrong, but I don’t often stop and think about where they’re coming from. So I was about to go off on this lady and — you all know I’m a Christian by now, so I feel completely comfortable saying this — God totally intervened. Those tears could have been anything — embarrassment, the wind in her eyes, relief… it’s not for me to say — I am just glad things were made right with her. One of those non-resolutions I’ve been working on is my anger and entitlement, so I view that crazy, out of character thing I did yesterday as a total victory. That wasn’t me. There’s no way I would have done that on my own. Shoot, I didn’t even want to get out of bed that morning because I’m lazy and entitled and imperfect in every way!
I’m being worked on. Changed for the better. I’m so excited about that.
I’m not big on New Years resolutions simply because I am a stubborn mofo and if there is a rule to follow, it is in my nature to NOT want to follow it. (Oh hi, I haven’t written a post in a month, how are you??) Yes, even if it is a rule I set for myself. I don’t know, I’m a little mental. So I have to pretty much trick myself into reaching my own goals that I didn’t make because I won’t want to reach them if I actually made them. Make sense? No, it absolutely doesn’t, but I’ve made peace with it.
What I’ve found that works best is that I can’t be strict with myself. I can’t even really set a true ‘goal'; I have to be all ‘everybody is a winner’ about it. I will not write these down in a journal or repeat them each morning as I wake up or put them on post it notes. Nonono, that would mean I am committed in some way. I don’t commit to things, remember? I am mental. So this is what I do. I tell myself this one thing:
Morgan, be better.
That’s all I need, as simple as it is and as weird as it sounds. That simple “be better” is loaded with invisible aspirations. I know I’m not perfect and am VERY aware of what needs work. I ask for God’s help with those things every day, regardless of this being a new year (my non-committal nature being one of the big ones, obviously). WHOA NELLY, this is getting too deep for la petite blog. I should have just said “lose 15 pounds” and be done with it. Seriously though. Rules… I don’t like them, but in my crazy backward way, I’m working on it.
Also working on taking pictures with my eyes, you know, open.
Hi friends. We are friends, right? Who stand by each other through thick and thin? For better or worse? Even though one of us might be more than a little loco? Okay, remember that as you read on.
I’d like to introduce you to a very important part of my childhood.
I found it a few days ago in a box full of old keepsakes and miscellaneous junk. As soon as I caught a glimpse of that black and white splattered cover, ominously peeking out from beneath some photos, I let out a quiet gasp and whispered, “Oh no…”
You see, back in elementary school, I was a tad obsessed with the movie Harriet the Spy.
I remember sitting in the theater and wondering why I hadn’t come up with the idea spying on everyone. It was brilliant! Harriet was my hero. I took mental notes while watching it and knew immediately I wanted to have my own notebook to write down all the very important things my very silly 5th grade self discovered. I begged my mom to buy me this notebook as soon as we got out of the theater. I was a spy, called to action. This was my destiny.
I started by giving a warning to whoever might try to sneak a peek into my private notes.
Do you feel threatened yet? That kind of gave me some spine tingles.
Over the next hundred pages, stuff got real. This thing started filling up quick… there was just so much vital knowledge I had to document!
I even spied on my then-seven year old brother.
You obviously can’t read that crap because 11 year old me used pencils LIKE A CHILD. What kind of a crappy spy… anyway. Let me translate:
Daniel – I’m hiding in his closet, waiting for him to return to his room. He’s looking for me now.
He’s in his room, burping! GROSS! He’s talking to himself and singing “Wild Thing.”
(He’s still singing!)
He’s making squishy noises in his mouth. GROSS!!
Oh, no! He caught me!
CIA, if you’re looking for a new agent with exceptional sneaky skills, you know where to find me.
I’ve gone through the entire notebook and have chosen several more pages to share with you all. Unfortunately, my top secret Spice Girls files, my stalker-status shrine I dedicated to my 6th grade crush, “The Invention Zone” and multiple drawings of my Tamagotchi will have to wait until another day. Until then, here’s something for you, my dear BFF.
(You remembered you still love me right? Because things are about to get weirder.)