Why "I Are Unhappy" is not an Excuse to Go Off on Anyone

Let's catch up, shall we?

I was having this difficult week....with a difficult person....who I usually ignore...but who was all up in my bidness and not going away....and I was mad.

Although I really wanted to have a little temper tantrum, or a little confrontation, or a little something in which my feelings were allowed some aeration, I did not give in to temptation. This is somewhat remarkable because when I feel like I'm gonna blow, I usually do. However, I was able to LET IT GO.

When next I saw this person, I was calm, gracious, understated. It didn't hurt that I was suffering from a massive head cold and felt like death warmed over. Nothing like a little illness to mute your more strident personality facets.

And now.....oh, now....I am so glad I did what I did. Because do you know what I found out? This person, the one who occasionally drives me straight to the edge of a cliff, was operating under some very similar demons. In fact, this whole shebang turns out to be not this person's fault at all.

Now what would have happened if I'd gone all medieval on someone? I would be a supreme jerk, that's what. And let's be clear here -- sometimes I am a supreme jerk. I have the robe and everything. But this time I LET IT GO. And beyond the satisfaction of being a grown up about something, I got the further satisfaction of discovering that being a grown up saved my heinie.

Turns out that The Person was being driven straight up the crazy tree by an ultra-controlling parent. And we all know that some parents can get involved in things that are none of their business and really mess them up. And that was the case here. All the fol-de-rol-lol was due to some extreme parental immaturity and meddling.

So here's the whole thing in a nutshell: I did the right thing and everyone benefitted.

Cue the angels singing, please....

I Are Unhappy

I am having one of those days when everything ticks me off. I can't seem to achieve any kind of zen to my day -- it's all a swirling morass of yuckiness.

There is this person in my life, someone that I can't ever really get away from, who used to drive me utterly crazy. Pull-your-hair-out-foam-at-the-mouth crazy. For many many years I was a slave to this emotional response. This person was an absolute genius at picking just the right set of circumstances and then pulling the one string that would make everyone involved come completely unglued. I finally reached a point -- I'd like to think it was maturity, but let's not get all cuckoo here -- where I just decided I was not going to react to this person's shennanigans anymore. I completely disassociated and it turned out to be a very successful technique. I grew calmer, refused to be drawn into conversations about this person by others who needed to vent, and developed a sublime indifference to whatever chaos this individual chose to create.

And then I lived happily ever after....until today.

The chaos is back and I am struggling with how to respond. My normal decision to opt out is not an option this time...I have to respond. And it makes me mad that this person has found a way to subvert my indifference, to force me to interact when I would really just prefer not to. I am very comfortable with the "you go your way, I'll go mine" lifestyle we've been leading and this all-up-in-yo-face tactic has me really annoyed.

See, I don't want to care but this person is really really good at making caring unavaoidable.

I hate when that happens.

Maybe I am approaching this all wrong. Maybe the truth here is that the whole thing is a tempest in a teapot. If I take a little time today and do some deep breathing and visualize world peace and center my chakra (? okay, I admit, I don't know what this is) then the sturm und drang will die down. Maybe it's only a problem if I let it be a problem. Maybe this whole thing just wormed its way through a chink in my armor because I'm tired and flustered about other stuff.

Hmmmm. I think I may be on to something here.

B.R.E.A.T.H.E.

I cam home from Bible study wednesday night and felt like my head was going to explode. 'Member when I said I was wrestling? Well, the battle reached a fever pitch at about 10:30 p.m. and I let fly like nobody's bidness.

My husband was a little floored.

I have always been this way, unable to really haul things out into the light until long after I should be in bed. I am famous for starting deep conversations (fights) after 10 p.m. and this night was a classic example.

I spilled, baby. I told my husband how frustrated I've been with how we're living, with what seems to me to be fairly pointless activity. Wheel-spinning. What are we actually doing? And don't say we're saving for new siding, because I can not get behind that as a life goal. When I stand before my maker I just don't think he's going to ask me "Did you get the siding? I was really hoping you'd get the siding..."

And I know we have to take care of this house -- I get that -- but right now I feel like we're being pulled another way and I needed my husband to see how indignant I am feeling, truly just full of righteous anger, that no one seems to care about all the kids in the world growing up without parents, without resources, without hope. IT IS SO WRONG.

So I shared. And I ranted a bit. And I told him some of the things that make my heart sick, make it ache for these kids. And I told him that I thought just maybe we were supposed to do more about it than just be armchair spectators.

Kids need homes. We have a home. They need families. We are a family. They need love and support and guidance. We can do all that -- maybe not perfectly, but it's got to be better than an orphanage.

It felt so good to blow off steam. To let all of that out. And now we're praying -- really praying -- that God will be very very clear about our path. I asked specifically that he confirm it through Tim, because I want to be certain it's from God and not just me going off all half-cocked (which I might just maybe occasionally tend to do. A little. Sort of.)

So we pray. Just the two of us, just before God.

Breathe, baby.

(enter Fear)

Sometimes I am so perfectly assured of the rightness of my desire to adopt, that I could practically levitate myself overseas by sheer force of will. Dossiers and paperwork? I spit on you. Homestudy? I sneeze in your face. Financial considerations? Your mother smells of elderberries.

Then, I get all second-guessy on myself and I think of all the things that could go wrong -- really wrong -- during or as a result of an adoption. I get a tight little panicky feeling around my throat and am secretly glad that my husband just isn't quite on the same page with me right now.



I'm hanging on to the balance beam for all I'm worth. But I don't think this is how we're called to live. I don't think this is how I'm called to live. I think there has to be a point where I step out and do the scary, good thing without any assurance that it's going to end well.

And what if it doesn't end well? It will still be a good thing. And the power of God will not be compromised. And I will have let go of the balance beam to the glory of God.

Still

Have you ever wrestled with a problem. I mean really wrestled?

That's where I'm at. I am wrestling: twisting and turning, struggling to keep my shoulders off the mat, contorted into positions where it's hard to breathe, searching for that last ounce of grit from whatever place it lives inside me so I can flip this problem on its can, put both hands in the air and yell "YEAH!"

But that's the victory and I am not at the victory. Yet.

It feels like things are moving. All the hollowness I've felt for months, the conviction that it's not enough to acknowledge a problem, to say sincerely "That's a terrible thing," to shake our heads and turn away sorrowfully, all of that finally seems to be communicating itself to my husband. And not because I sat down with him and said, "look, this is all crap..."

Though I would certainly like to.

Yesterday we saw a clip from a sermon by Francis Chan and it was electrifying. Why? Because it's exactly what we seem to do in the church, and particularly it's what Tim and I have done in our family.




It opened my husband's eyes. He's not all the way there yet, but I think we're going down the right path.