The Best (I shouldn't have) Laid (down) Plans
I have decided that I just don't care if my life has become an if-it's-not-one-thing-it's-another-one-comedy-of-errors-after-the-other-I-could-write-a-book-about-this-crap saga. It's my life, it's the only one I get, these are the choices I've made, this is the person I've become.
My journals, Heaven forbid they are ever published, are fraught with stories of laughter and tears, joy and heartbreak, struggle and... well, struggle. (Wait... Casey Nichols, upon my death I here-by bequeath my journals to you. You may publish them but change the names, including mine, to protect the innoc... well, just change the names.) Many of my blog entries also reflect the often ridiculous nature of my life and the events that occur within the minutes and hours I stumble upon this crazy planet. I am not one to hide a good story, nor a good lesson for that matter, and take pride only in the fact that with each silly or disastrous occurrence God gives me the humility (and eventually the wisdom to be thankful) to speak plainly, if not humorously, about the incident in the hope that someone will either choose a wiser path, find comfort in knowing that I too am a goober of considerable size, or maybe just get a good chuckle out of the deal.
For the past four or five years - I lose count... or maybe I'm just getting old and forget - I have been struggling with various and sundry physical, emotional, and spiritual issues that have REALLY drained me of much of my sense of humor about things, as well as much of my hope. In my last counseling session my wonderful counselor charged me with inspecting my current version of hope and asking myself if it was true hope - the hope that comes from knowing Christ - or Polyanna-see-things-through-rose-colored-glasses-fake-optimism hope... i.e. the kind of hope that's really more a show than anything else. The kind of hope you display in a high-browed grimace/smile when you fear the worst, but don't want anyone else to know just how bad it is because you don't want them to feel bad or be scared.
As I have gone about the inspection process I have had to admit that I have indeed become a Polyanna in many ways. It just seemed so much easier to put on a brave face and PRETEND like things were going to be okay rather than experience the feelings and disappointment (but ultimately freedom) that come with being real about life and how it can truly suck at times. The problem with taking the easy way out, however, is that expectations remain the same. When expectations remain the same, but performance begins to lapse, there is an incongruity that starts to fester. That incongruity serves to further disable the struggling person and the situation or relationship starts a downward spiral. Painful? Destructive? Dangerous? Life threatening? Yes, to the Nth degree.
But HOPE? REAL hope? Now that's just plain ol' amazing stuff! It's like an equalizer; like a balm! For me hope even comes with a free gift - HUMOR!! Man! Hook me up on an IV of hope and humor and I'm set! Which brings me to Thursday's hilarious fiasco... :)
I've just recently gotten over the crud - the bug that's been going around. I've got weird lungy/throat allergies, too, so any cold or flu I get tends to end up as bronchitis or pleurisy. While sick I took as many OTC drugs as directed to be able to rest because history has revealed to me that rest via "sleeping it off" is the quickest way for me to get better... so sleep I did. On top of being sick, and doped up, I'm also still dealing with this whole depression thing, and sleep rhythm can be seriously negatively affected by depression and any anti-depressants in the system. SO! Recipe for walking dead? I think so! Recipe for circadian rhythm interruption and confusion! Yes!
Enter: "Circadian Rhythm Correction Techniques." (Okay this isn't really the name of something, I just thought it sounded cool.) I did some online research after speaking with my dear friend Karin, and found that there are a number of ways to tweak your sleep patterns back into "normal" mode. My counselor had mentioned "coffea cruda" for times when I felt sleepy but couldn't fall asleep due to overactive thinking. She also suggested melatonin: I'd used that while in college and found that I was fairly receptive to its effects. So I high tailed it down to the health food store and bought those two items. With my new purchases and new found information I decided that the best approach was to start adjusting my sleep pattern by an hour a day until I was sleeping at an exact 12 hour delay. Normally I like to be in the vicinity of bed by 9 or 9:30 PM with lights out no later than 11:00 PM. Wake up should be around 5:30 or 6 AM the next morning.
As of Wednesday at 4:00 PM I was close enough to the 12 hour delay to do the 24 hour plus sleep deprivation marathon. I had been ill that morning so I took some meds and slept very soundly until it was time to head to church for youth group that evening. With youth group over and my hands and agenda full of things to read and do, I headed home to begin my vigil. An added bonus was my friend Kara who would also be up the entire night. We had a few nice chats via FB - a GREAT distraction when things got too lonely (or stir-crazy) to continue the solitary tasks of reading and writing.
At 6 AM Thursday morning there was enough activity in the house to assure I wouldn't wake anyone so I got up, showered, and headed out for coffee and breakfast. I was at Mary Jo's desk by 8:15 AM and working by 8:30. I was on venti espresso drink number 3 of the night/day and was feeling wired but good. By 11:45, however, I was feeling a little weird... and not that good weird that I feel most of the time, ha ha ha. It was a bad, dizzy weird. I was waiting for someone at the office to do some training but she hadn't arrived yet. I also had planned to pick Chels up from school at 2:15 and the idea of driving dizzy didn't sit well with me. So, I decided I would scoot home really quick, start a load of laundry, grab a bite to eat, and maybe close my eyes for a few minutes until I got a call from the office.
Famous last words.
At 12:15 PM I called Chels and asked her if she would ride the bus home, that I would just come get her at 4:30 and we would head out for dinner and a movie then - the movie didn't start until 5:55 so we would have time to get a frappuccino and giggle before we had to be at the theater. She was cool with that, and the idea of NOT being in a car with a dizzy driver, so I sat down in the recliner to wait for the laundry to finish in the washer. When it finished I transferred clothes to the dryer and set my alarm on my phone for 1:15 JUST IN CASE I FELL ASLEEP and the buzzer on the dryer didn't wake me up.
At 4:59 PM I awakened to a dark room (hadn't I been in the recliner?) and that strange "where am I" feeling one might feel after being drugged and abducted by aliens. (Not that I have any experience with that, and not that I'm making fun of anyone who believes they DO have experience with that). I looked at my phone and saw numerous missed text messages, missed calls, and FB questions wondering if I was still awake.
AHHHHHH!
I immediately called Chelsea, apologizing at mach speed and assuring here I would be there in a few minutes and we would make it to the movie on time. She, of course, in her low-key way said, "Cool your jets, it's fine! Calm down, it's ohhhhhkayyyyy." LOL. Gotta love that girl. So I scrambled to put hair in pony-tail and baseball cap, clothes on body and purse on arm. I was out the door in 10 minutes and on the road in 1. I berated myself the entire way there, stopping only to call Chelsea one more time to let her know I was on the road and to listen for the honk of the suburban. Her response, once again, "Cool your jets, it's fine! Calm down, it's ohhhhhkayyyyy." Plus an added request to not speed or get in a wreck. I was down with that. Then I called Mary Jo to let her know I really hadn't flaked at the office, that I was in a coma at the house and never heard from anyone. I continued to verbally kick myself as I pulled into the Cannon's driveway and honked. When Chels got in the truck I apologized profusely and she just got this funny look on her face - she gets that a lot with me - and rolled her eyes in a kind way. "We will be fine, it's okay." I wish I had her "chill" some times.
Finally settling down, and then commencing the giggle-fest, we arrived ON time, in ONE piece (well, two pieces since we are two people - three pieces if you want to count the suburban). Chelsea had to submit to being my niece because she didn't have her ID - something that has already been cleared by her "real" family so it wasn't REALLY false - and I had to forgo the guacamole because it was too expensive and I only put $20 on the food card thingies. We both opted for the quessadilla - mine with regular chicken and hers with barbecue - then headed for the theater.
When Bruce Willis appeared on the screen I was a little confused. We were supposed to be seeing "Red" - the new movie about Red Riding Hood. Hmmm. I told Chels to go look at the name on the marquee. Yep, it said "Red." Hmmmm. We double checked with a server and indeed this was what we'd come to see. So, being the easy breezy girls that we are when it comes to stuff like this, we stayed. The food was already ordered and Bruce Willis is HOT, so why not. :)
The movie turned out to be hilarious! Chelsea and I were both glad we stayed. The giggle fest returned once we hit the outdoors and we stopped for Dairy Queen on the way home. I dropped Chelsea off at home, it was around 9 PM, and drove home with a smile on my face. It had turned out okay. What a concept. Everything was alright. Wow. When I got home I did a few things online, started writing this blog, but called it a day at the afore-mentioned scheduled time of 11 PM. I don't remember getting drowsy, I just know that at 5:51 AM the next morning I woke up having slept through the night! Then I felt a familiar nausea that told me I was two steps forward, one step back. LAME.
I texted Jo and Karin letting them know the probability of me getting out was slim to none. When the stomach cramps set in I resorted to taking my Dicyclomine and of course, fell into a drug induced coma for a few hours. I managed a quick trip to Starbucks this evening because truly, coffee and bread are the only things that won't start the sick back up. On my way home I heard an amazing song by Jason Gray that ended up being the perfect ending to my day, and as a matter of fact, the perfect wrap-up to this blog entry. In the past a fiasco of this proportion, albeit a humorous one, could have sent me reeling into despair. It doesn't make sense, but then again depression and hopelessness don't really make sense when you look at them analytically. Despite the lack of sensibility in how I would have felt, I definitely would have felt an overwhelming sense of failure because of how things hadn't worked out as I planned. But leave it to my Father to show me that it's okay - to put "chill" people in my life like Chelsea, Jo, and Karin who can handle the craziness that comes with making plans with me at this time in my life. Leave it to Him to provide me with a safe environment - even if it can be a little stressful at times - where I can sort this stuff out and, for the most part, be the failure that I need to be while I'm learning to succeed. Leave it to The Comforter to arrange the perfect song to come on the radio station as I'm driving home drinking my white mocha frappuccino with an extra pump of dark mocha and whip.
Even when MY best laid plans go astray, His do not.
God is good.
My journals, Heaven forbid they are ever published, are fraught with stories of laughter and tears, joy and heartbreak, struggle and... well, struggle. (Wait... Casey Nichols, upon my death I here-by bequeath my journals to you. You may publish them but change the names, including mine, to protect the innoc... well, just change the names.) Many of my blog entries also reflect the often ridiculous nature of my life and the events that occur within the minutes and hours I stumble upon this crazy planet. I am not one to hide a good story, nor a good lesson for that matter, and take pride only in the fact that with each silly or disastrous occurrence God gives me the humility (and eventually the wisdom to be thankful) to speak plainly, if not humorously, about the incident in the hope that someone will either choose a wiser path, find comfort in knowing that I too am a goober of considerable size, or maybe just get a good chuckle out of the deal.
For the past four or five years - I lose count... or maybe I'm just getting old and forget - I have been struggling with various and sundry physical, emotional, and spiritual issues that have REALLY drained me of much of my sense of humor about things, as well as much of my hope. In my last counseling session my wonderful counselor charged me with inspecting my current version of hope and asking myself if it was true hope - the hope that comes from knowing Christ - or Polyanna-see-things-through-rose-colored-glasses-fake-optimism hope... i.e. the kind of hope that's really more a show than anything else. The kind of hope you display in a high-browed grimace/smile when you fear the worst, but don't want anyone else to know just how bad it is because you don't want them to feel bad or be scared.
As I have gone about the inspection process I have had to admit that I have indeed become a Polyanna in many ways. It just seemed so much easier to put on a brave face and PRETEND like things were going to be okay rather than experience the feelings and disappointment (but ultimately freedom) that come with being real about life and how it can truly suck at times. The problem with taking the easy way out, however, is that expectations remain the same. When expectations remain the same, but performance begins to lapse, there is an incongruity that starts to fester. That incongruity serves to further disable the struggling person and the situation or relationship starts a downward spiral. Painful? Destructive? Dangerous? Life threatening? Yes, to the Nth degree.
But HOPE? REAL hope? Now that's just plain ol' amazing stuff! It's like an equalizer; like a balm! For me hope even comes with a free gift - HUMOR!! Man! Hook me up on an IV of hope and humor and I'm set! Which brings me to Thursday's hilarious fiasco... :)
I've just recently gotten over the crud - the bug that's been going around. I've got weird lungy/throat allergies, too, so any cold or flu I get tends to end up as bronchitis or pleurisy. While sick I took as many OTC drugs as directed to be able to rest because history has revealed to me that rest via "sleeping it off" is the quickest way for me to get better... so sleep I did. On top of being sick, and doped up, I'm also still dealing with this whole depression thing, and sleep rhythm can be seriously negatively affected by depression and any anti-depressants in the system. SO! Recipe for walking dead? I think so! Recipe for circadian rhythm interruption and confusion! Yes!
Enter: "Circadian Rhythm Correction Techniques." (Okay this isn't really the name of something, I just thought it sounded cool.) I did some online research after speaking with my dear friend Karin, and found that there are a number of ways to tweak your sleep patterns back into "normal" mode. My counselor had mentioned "coffea cruda" for times when I felt sleepy but couldn't fall asleep due to overactive thinking. She also suggested melatonin: I'd used that while in college and found that I was fairly receptive to its effects. So I high tailed it down to the health food store and bought those two items. With my new purchases and new found information I decided that the best approach was to start adjusting my sleep pattern by an hour a day until I was sleeping at an exact 12 hour delay. Normally I like to be in the vicinity of bed by 9 or 9:30 PM with lights out no later than 11:00 PM. Wake up should be around 5:30 or 6 AM the next morning.
As of Wednesday at 4:00 PM I was close enough to the 12 hour delay to do the 24 hour plus sleep deprivation marathon. I had been ill that morning so I took some meds and slept very soundly until it was time to head to church for youth group that evening. With youth group over and my hands and agenda full of things to read and do, I headed home to begin my vigil. An added bonus was my friend Kara who would also be up the entire night. We had a few nice chats via FB - a GREAT distraction when things got too lonely (or stir-crazy) to continue the solitary tasks of reading and writing.
At 6 AM Thursday morning there was enough activity in the house to assure I wouldn't wake anyone so I got up, showered, and headed out for coffee and breakfast. I was at Mary Jo's desk by 8:15 AM and working by 8:30. I was on venti espresso drink number 3 of the night/day and was feeling wired but good. By 11:45, however, I was feeling a little weird... and not that good weird that I feel most of the time, ha ha ha. It was a bad, dizzy weird. I was waiting for someone at the office to do some training but she hadn't arrived yet. I also had planned to pick Chels up from school at 2:15 and the idea of driving dizzy didn't sit well with me. So, I decided I would scoot home really quick, start a load of laundry, grab a bite to eat, and maybe close my eyes for a few minutes until I got a call from the office.
Famous last words.
At 12:15 PM I called Chels and asked her if she would ride the bus home, that I would just come get her at 4:30 and we would head out for dinner and a movie then - the movie didn't start until 5:55 so we would have time to get a frappuccino and giggle before we had to be at the theater. She was cool with that, and the idea of NOT being in a car with a dizzy driver, so I sat down in the recliner to wait for the laundry to finish in the washer. When it finished I transferred clothes to the dryer and set my alarm on my phone for 1:15 JUST IN CASE I FELL ASLEEP and the buzzer on the dryer didn't wake me up.
At 4:59 PM I awakened to a dark room (hadn't I been in the recliner?) and that strange "where am I" feeling one might feel after being drugged and abducted by aliens. (Not that I have any experience with that, and not that I'm making fun of anyone who believes they DO have experience with that). I looked at my phone and saw numerous missed text messages, missed calls, and FB questions wondering if I was still awake.
AHHHHHH!
I immediately called Chelsea, apologizing at mach speed and assuring here I would be there in a few minutes and we would make it to the movie on time. She, of course, in her low-key way said, "Cool your jets, it's fine! Calm down, it's ohhhhhkayyyyy." LOL. Gotta love that girl. So I scrambled to put hair in pony-tail and baseball cap, clothes on body and purse on arm. I was out the door in 10 minutes and on the road in 1. I berated myself the entire way there, stopping only to call Chelsea one more time to let her know I was on the road and to listen for the honk of the suburban. Her response, once again, "Cool your jets, it's fine! Calm down, it's ohhhhhkayyyyy." Plus an added request to not speed or get in a wreck. I was down with that. Then I called Mary Jo to let her know I really hadn't flaked at the office, that I was in a coma at the house and never heard from anyone. I continued to verbally kick myself as I pulled into the Cannon's driveway and honked. When Chels got in the truck I apologized profusely and she just got this funny look on her face - she gets that a lot with me - and rolled her eyes in a kind way. "We will be fine, it's okay." I wish I had her "chill" some times.
Finally settling down, and then commencing the giggle-fest, we arrived ON time, in ONE piece (well, two pieces since we are two people - three pieces if you want to count the suburban). Chelsea had to submit to being my niece because she didn't have her ID - something that has already been cleared by her "real" family so it wasn't REALLY false - and I had to forgo the guacamole because it was too expensive and I only put $20 on the food card thingies. We both opted for the quessadilla - mine with regular chicken and hers with barbecue - then headed for the theater.
When Bruce Willis appeared on the screen I was a little confused. We were supposed to be seeing "Red" - the new movie about Red Riding Hood. Hmmm. I told Chels to go look at the name on the marquee. Yep, it said "Red." Hmmmm. We double checked with a server and indeed this was what we'd come to see. So, being the easy breezy girls that we are when it comes to stuff like this, we stayed. The food was already ordered and Bruce Willis is HOT, so why not. :)
The movie turned out to be hilarious! Chelsea and I were both glad we stayed. The giggle fest returned once we hit the outdoors and we stopped for Dairy Queen on the way home. I dropped Chelsea off at home, it was around 9 PM, and drove home with a smile on my face. It had turned out okay. What a concept. Everything was alright. Wow. When I got home I did a few things online, started writing this blog, but called it a day at the afore-mentioned scheduled time of 11 PM. I don't remember getting drowsy, I just know that at 5:51 AM the next morning I woke up having slept through the night! Then I felt a familiar nausea that told me I was two steps forward, one step back. LAME.
I texted Jo and Karin letting them know the probability of me getting out was slim to none. When the stomach cramps set in I resorted to taking my Dicyclomine and of course, fell into a drug induced coma for a few hours. I managed a quick trip to Starbucks this evening because truly, coffee and bread are the only things that won't start the sick back up. On my way home I heard an amazing song by Jason Gray that ended up being the perfect ending to my day, and as a matter of fact, the perfect wrap-up to this blog entry. In the past a fiasco of this proportion, albeit a humorous one, could have sent me reeling into despair. It doesn't make sense, but then again depression and hopelessness don't really make sense when you look at them analytically. Despite the lack of sensibility in how I would have felt, I definitely would have felt an overwhelming sense of failure because of how things hadn't worked out as I planned. But leave it to my Father to show me that it's okay - to put "chill" people in my life like Chelsea, Jo, and Karin who can handle the craziness that comes with making plans with me at this time in my life. Leave it to Him to provide me with a safe environment - even if it can be a little stressful at times - where I can sort this stuff out and, for the most part, be the failure that I need to be while I'm learning to succeed. Leave it to The Comforter to arrange the perfect song to come on the radio station as I'm driving home drinking my white mocha frappuccino with an extra pump of dark mocha and whip.
Even when MY best laid plans go astray, His do not.
God is good.
I love you, Goober. Remind me to bring you some coffee and bread and we can get together any old time. Thanks for a good read--realistically encouraging. Sleep this night. See you soon, K~
ReplyDeleteIt is such a great song! Very fitting. I heard a great few words of advice on K Love Wednesday afternoon that were really eye opening to me during my time of stress and worry. Pray not for things to work out, to change or go the way you want them to. Pray to be satisfied and content with who you are and where you are at because true FAITH is knowing that god has a plan even when you don't. Trust in him always and enjoy every moment of every day! I love K Love!!
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