Down for the Count Up, 6

THAT’S THAT, OCTOBER 1, 2012

Just one day of slight ups and some surprisingly big downs. An attempt to turn things around in a way that would normally bring me down… hasn’t. I’m not as bothered by it as I have been in the past. In fact, my amusement is sickly amusing. Does that mean I am becoming heart-stronger or strongly heading back down the WTH aisle at the IDGAF store?

In spite of all that, I was ok today. Until I found out something that set me back a bit, or a whole lot, to be honest. I convinced myself that I would be ok coming home from Ireland. I didn’t realize how much stock I had put into one, single, solitary, all-focused, not entirely rational, and now non-existent path. Feeling quite foolish, disappointed, and totally without a direction to cast my hopes.

Sometimes GOD quietly closes a door for you. Sometimes HE slams it shut on the foot you’ve stubbornly been using to keep it propped open. I got slammed; a little harder and a little harder to take than my usual god-smack. Of course, I’d been pushing to keep it open. I can only shake my head and glance back over my shoulder. I should have realized it was too difficult an undertaking to be worthwhile.

I’d like to be able to blame the pain on someone else, but no one let me down. I let myself down in a zig-zag, running-after pattern I’ve followed before. You know when you know better and you just can’t stop yourself from bee-lining, full-stinger ready, just can’t avoid buzzing and trying and buzzing and trying and buzzing and trying, only to fail and fail and fail?

It seems now, that the truth blares out. I never had a chance, but still I believed. Stubbornness moves against us more than for us. 
Trying to divest myself of the very emotional investment I have made, chasing rainbows toward an always fictitious pot of gold. I would have done better counting shiny penny moments and tracking mini-triumphs.

It’s a painful blessing to bear: the resounding slam indicates without doubt – my plans were not GOD’s plan. When that happens, there’s nothing left to do, but thank GOD that your toes won’t be jammed up against that door anymore, pick up your heart, and limp off in a new direction. That’s that.

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Typical, I’m Ok.

There’s a memory gap, between the time I left the house Friday morning and the time I got the phone call.

I don’t remember what I was working on at the time. I don’t remember if it was before lunch or after lunch, or what time it was when I answered my phone.

At the time, the conversation didn’t shock me. It does, now, though. Because of the way the mind works.

Jeff’s body had already cried “wolf” so many times, it wasn’t too terribly concerning. We were operating under the well-documented and demonstrated assumption that he would rally, of course.

“Jeff told me not to call,” she said. “He’s going to be mad I called you, but I felt I should.”

Typical for Jeff, he had fallen asleep in his squeaky, red-glitter vinyl, swivel chair behind the display case. Importantly, the swivel and squeak would often jolt him awake, if he happened to drift off. They had saved him from falling back, or falling front, or falling off.

“I had a hard time waking him up,” she said. “A really, really hard time. I thought he should go to the hospital, but couldn’t get him to go. He doesn’t look so good.”

Thanking her, I hung up, and immediately dialed Jeff.

I rushed over his typical, jovial greeting. Hi, just calling to check up on you. How’s it goin’? ”

“It’s goin’!” he joked. “Had two customers today.”

“Cool. So … how are you feeling?”

“Oh, I’m, uh, feelin’ ok.” He stammered.

“Really?” I asked. “What’s been going on there?”

After a beat, Jeff huffed. “She called you, didn’t she?”

“Yep. You wanna tell me what happened?”

“Nah. It was nothin’.”

“Really?” I ppersisted. “She thought it was somethin’. Said you scared her.”

He explained he’d arrived there later than he had planned (typical). “Was walkin’  around, then, I was out of breath, and I was sweatin’ real hard. So, I set down to drink my pop.”

“Mt Dew?” I prompted, knowing he’d likely have to  answer ‘yes.’

Knowing I’d be annoyed and prone to not so subtly reminding him, again, that sugar and caffeine were not a diabetic’s friend, Jeff decided to skip right over that rote role-play.

“Aw, I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” he almost whined. Continuing on a sigh, he finished in typically optimistic Jeff style, “… but, it was a good sleep, so, I must have needed it.”

“So, you’re totally fine, now?”

“Yeah,” he answered. “Kinda a little bit dizzy, sick to my stomach.”

“Maybe, you shouldn’t finish the Mt Dew,” I poked.

“Oh, I already drank it, all.” Jeff confessed. “And I think it helped, some. I’m not so tired now.”

“Uh, huh, sure.” I snarked. His expected chuckle sounded a little off, not quite right.

“Hey,” I gentled my tone. “You sure? You feel ok to drive home?”

“I’m ok.” Jeff assured me.

Quote for the Week:

It’s Ok to Step Away

It’s ok to step away.

One foot off the path isn’t usually trouble.

Remember, you know the way back.

Don’t be too hard on yourself, if you’re not ready to return.

Loss is only measurable by the strength of the relationship;

By  breadth of share, by depth of care, and trueness of the heart.

 

Experience hasn’t taught me what to say, but, that’s ok.

I’ve learned other things; to whole-heartedly listen, to laugh along.

To remain steadfast and patient; waiting for the heralding moment.

To acknowledge clear tears of realization; there will be no more memories made.

To stand by and let you know: it’s ok to step away.

 

Quote for the Week: