I’ve been making a concerted effort to reduce stress in my life. In days past, my way of dealing with stress was to hole myself up in my closet, putting as many closed doors between me and my offspring as possible, and have a good cry.
The danger of placing oneself so far away from the madding crowd is that my house could be reduced to smoldering ashes should I stay in the closet a bit too long.
The other day Jensen was searching the house for his father. I told him that Daddy was in the closet. (Fiddledaddy was changing clothes.) Jensen looked at me with wide eyes, “IS HE CRYING?”
Therefore, I’m finding other means to find my happy place. One of Fiddledaddy’s suggestions was to take a pretend “I don’t care” pill. I’d prefer the real thing, but I’ll take what I can get. The next course of action was to cut out activities which cause consternation. This was a difficult one. One of my girls was involved in a wonderful activity, and has been for many years. I could tell that her interests are changing as she’s maturing, and the time was right to re-evaluate. I’ve harbored a good deal of guilt as I’ve been physically unable to volunteer in the way that I know I was needed. I’ve gotten nothing but support as I’ve made this decision (from my daughters as well as dear friends that I’ve served with). The relief I’ve felt is immense.
Another means of freeing myself up is to not write daily. I’m lucky if I pound out a post or two a week. I’ve given myself a lot of grace in this area as typically I would heap mounds of guilt on myself if I don’t come up with a blog post. I’m letting go of the guilt. Not the blog. Just the guilt. As my children (particularly the teen and tween) get older, I am very protective of their struggles and foibles. (Jensen, who is on the cusp of turning 9, is still fair game. And relishes the attention.)
I am in the unenviable position of dealing with uncomfortable Lyme symptoms again. I had mentioned that there is a local infectious disease doctor well versed in Lyme Disease in our area that also accepts insurance. I learned today that he rarely takes Lyme patients and would have to review my file before agreeing to accept me as a patient. This is my new campaign. I need a local doctor, who accepts insurance, to look at me with a new and different set of eyes. I’m determined.
I don’t usually venture out in the evening because of the fatigue and joint pain, but last weekend I attended a women’s night out function at our church with a girlfriend. I knew there would be snacking opportunities, and some really wonderful women that I adore in attendance. But I did not count on falling in love with Bunco. I’d never played Bunco. And here we were in a large room with 175 other women, teamed up 4 to a table, throwing dice.
Bunco is a dice game that’s difficult to explain but easy to catch on quickly. There is pretty much no skill involved. If you and your partner were to win a round, you had to move on to the next table and change partners. It was sort of like speed dating. Or so I hear. I’ve never experienced speed dating, per se. My father would tell you that I went steady every 5 minutes, but that would just be over-sharing.
Anyhoo. It was a fast paced game which gave me the opportunity to meet some awesome new ladies at my church. I belong to a huge congregation, and in all the years I’ve attended, I marveled at how many faces I did not know. This evening was a wonderful experience in that I let go of my cares, stepped out of my comfort zone, had a really good time, laughed myself silly, and whooped and hollered with abandon. There was one elderly Bunco attendee who sported a vest festooned with dice. There may or may not have been a little coveting on my part. I will not lie.
I’m feeling more and more lead to get more involved with the women’s ministry. And somehow, someway, Bunco will have to be a part of my future. (I say this with enthusiasm as I’m trying to weed out activities. I am a conundrum.)
All this to say that I’m not disappearing from the internet. I’m just taking some healing time and letting go of those things that make it hard to catch my breath. It’s nice to spend less time in the closet and more time in the fresh air.