I am at a crossroads, and the struggle to decide which path to follow is an overwhelming one. I can see sunshine upon each road; neither one creeps into a dark or murky forest. I am sure each path will have its own share of bumps and twists, but just as equally sure each will have stretches of shade and little hollows to stop and rest for a bit.
The destination for each road is unknown, and neither I, nor anybody else can look ahead into the future and assure me where each one ends. I wish I were a person who thrives on the adventure of the unknown, but I am not. I am a planner, a worrier, and I like to know exactly where each of my feet are being planted as I walk the path underneath them. Some call that boring. I call it smart. I am excited about my choices, yes. Excited that I HAVE choices. But my fear of choosing incorrectly immobilizes me. I’ve tried reminding myself that a series of previous choices have put me where I am today…which is a really good place in life. So, historical data would indicate that I tend to make good decisions and this one will be no different. But still I pause. Do you know why worriers worry? Aside from being wired that way, that is? We worry about all the worst case scenarios, stew over the many horrible things that can happen, so that if something awful does happen, we are prepared. It won’t hit us blind, and we can move out immediately with one of our bazillion mental contingency plans. This is what we tell ourselves and others when we are criticized for worrying. And whether it’s really true or not, I have convinced myself completely of this theory. So, here I sit. Looking at the various paths in front of me, each leading off into a different direction, and worrying about which one is the best…the one I should take. Questions flash through my mind. Am I making a mistake? What will things look like in 5 years? Will I regret not taking path B? Should I have taken more time, done more research, put more thought into things? How will this path affect my family? And what about the other one….what will that one do? Will either make me happier? Less anxious? Less depressed? There’s an ongoing debate happening in my head between Alison A and Alison B. Each arguing their case for the possibilities ahead and me nodding my head in agreement at both of them because that’s what I do. As fiercely independent as I am about making my own decisions about things, I am also one who sometimes needs to just be told what to do. If not, I can sit and agonize over a decision until cobwebs collect in my hair. I’ve thought about it, cried about it, discussed it with hubs, and fretted over it. The only thing I haven’t done yet is pray about it. Naturally, I’ve tried to shoulder this myself instead of handing over those pesky reins to the only One who truly knows what the best decision is for me. I think it’s time I do that. I just need to be prepared to really listen and have the faith to follow where I’m led.
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She looks across the empty void where her enemy sits and waits. Whispers float in the air between them; words of cruelty and hate. She tries to cover her ears, but it is no use. The lies and harsh truths creep into her mind and numb her with a bitter cold that she cannot shake. Little by little, her defenses crumble and she can feel her foe’s gleefulness as it senses the chinks in her armor. Enraged – fueled with a wave of defiance – she hurls herself across the emptiness between them. She gathers speed, emboldened with a brief flash of power, and crashes into the leering evil. They fall together in a mass of emotions, exchanging verbal and physical blows, each trying to overpower the other. Her opponent is strong, and years of attempted resistance to a barrage of insults and deception leaves her the weaker of the two. Bit by bit her swings become slower, her movements sluggish, until finally all the strength she had mustered is gone. As the punches continue to rain down on her, she curls into a ball with her arms covering her head. Each hit sends fresh waves of hurt coursing through her, and the screams from her throat turn from fury to pain, and finally, to cries for help. But help does not come. She is alone on this battlefield. Beaten, bruised, cut, and bleeding…she sobs and wishes for an end to the pain. Desperation washes over her and in a last ditch attempt to free herself from the torturous onslaught, she reaches deep inside her soul and flips the switch.
I have learned 2 lessons since the beginning of May.
First, I need to invest in waterproof mascara. No matter how much I love what my current one does, it doesn’t have quite the same impact when it’s in a constant smear under your eyes. I’ve cried more tears in the last four weeks than I can remember since 2 ½ years ago. I’m a crier anyway. I cry when I’m happy, when I’m sad, when I’m tired, and unfortunately, when I’m especially angry. It’s an infuriating trait. I watched the infamous Kristen Bell “Sloth” interview with Ellen one time, and she described herself the same way. In her words, “First thing you should know about me, if I’m not between a 3 and a 7 on the emotional scale, I’m crying.” Yep, that’s me. That is 100% me. And if you know me, you know how true that is. Secondly, I’ve learned exactly how much physical abuse my body can take before it literally starts shutting down on me. Well, really, it’s more like neglect. I have not taken care of myself at all lately. I’ve worked non-stop, eaten next to nothing, forgotten to even drink water, and I’m unable to sleep…even with 3 prescription sleeping medications (yes, they are all prescribed to be taken together). And beginning yesterday afternoon, my body finally started screaming at me, “ENOUGH!” I’m a walking zombie. My memory is shot, my autopilot isn’t working anymore, and I’m seeing things. I’m laughing hysterically one minute and hiding in the bathroom, crying, the next. I’ve snapped at people, been argumentative, and totally shut some out. And physically, it’s just as bad. An unrelenting headache, nausea, and aching muscles greet me every day. I’ve been coasting from one sinus infection to another, forgetting what it feels like to actually be able to breathe. I tell you all this to reach a larger topic. Stress has been a way of life for me as long as I can remember. I worry excessively, strive for a standard that is unattainable, and beat myself up mercilessly when I perceive any type of failure. I am a control freak and the scariest thing for me is to feel like I’m not holding the reins. I hold them with an iron grip because not knowing is torture for me. Feeling like I have no effect on what happens is terrifying. And trust is hard for me to give. Life has a way of handing you big, fat, sour as hell lemons. It hurls obstacles and challenges and “opportunities for growth” your way and there doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason as to who gets what. Each time I’m confronted with one of these trials, I stew and fret and make myself sick over it despite knowing – KNOWING – that God has the very best intentions for me and is waiting for me to hand over those reins. Over and over again He has proven to me that His Word is truth. Yet, each time a new worry comes my way, I seem to forget this for a while and I’m locked in the same struggle again. I continue to hold on to my trust like a toddler clinging to her blanket, reluctant in handing it over even though in the very depths of my heart I know He’s there, giving His love, grace, and peace freely to me, if only I’d accept it. Isn’t this strange? What does it mean? Why do I struggle every time – when I know eventually I’ll make my way to Him for help? Does it mean I’m less of a believer than those who seem to plod steadily and calmly along their way, confident from day 1 in His truth? How do you reach a point in your faith when trusting and letting Him guide you is as natural as breathing? I wish I had the answers to these questions. What I keep coming back to, though, is that this is how I’m wired. I struggle, and push, and resist, and fight until I just wear myself out. And then, suddenly, everything becomes clear and calm and I become calm with it. I’m sure there are times God watches me and just thinks to Himself, “Good grief, if she’d just peter out already…” My moment of clarity came today, even though there’s still a chance that a very large fear of mine will come true. I think between feeling some relief that the past 2 days are over, and being just plain tuckered out, the sunshine finally had a chance to break through. And I broke with it. Driving home from work, thinking about all of this, the tears came again. But this time they were not just tears of fear and worry. They were also tears of liberation because I could finally see the peace being handed to me. And just like that, I released my grip on those pesky reins, and now, I’m leaning back in the saddle for some much needed rest. I think I have mental whiplash. Today I’ve yelled, smiled, laughed until I cried, cried cried, and taken large pleasure in someone else’s mistake. To be fair, it’s more a feeling of vindication because this person has gone out of their way to make snide remarks about something in reference to me, and today I received solid proof that a large part of the “problem” was of their making. I mean, who wouldn’t feel a little bit of pleasure in that?
I’ve gone from really pissed off to insane laughter in 1.3 seconds today. I’ve been content and then zipped on over to annoyed and then furious in another 3 seconds. I let that anger take control of me this afternoon and I’m not one bit sorry. Nope. I’m tired, worried, and stressed, so when the needle flew over to “pissed as hell”, I let my temper loose. And, dammit, if it didn’t feel good. I wonder sometimes if my temperamentalism is going to eventually land me in the grave…from a stroke, heart attack, aneurysm….who knows. I’ve always been this way, though. My friends know it well. I’m like the weather in Texas…if you don’t like my mood, stick around for a few minutes ‘cuz it’ll change. I had a co-worker tell me today “I like sitting by you, Alison. Never a dull moment.” I’m taking it as a compliment. At least you won’t be bored around me. I can guarantee you that. |
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