Yesterday was an interesting day here at And Sam Makes Seven. Yes, sir. I started out by stupidly believing I was putting up a simple, goofy, fluffy post about our new puppy.
Um, yeah... And how did that work out for you, Michelle?
Not good. Not good at all. Thank you for asking.
You know the old saying, "No simple, goofy, fluffy deed goes unpunished."
Apparently, good Americans should think twice before using the words "evil" and "Obama" in the same sentence. Whether or not they actually intended to call Mr. Obama evil doesn't matter. It just.should.not.be.done. Although, just for giggles, I Googled the words "Bush" and "evil" together, and OY... The quotes about our current President including the word "evil" (among others) were aplenty. I guess that word is supposed to be saved for history's worst offenders- like Satan, Hitler, Bill Maher, George W. Bush... I didn't know it wasn't supposed to be used jokingly to describe dogs, or even remotely connected to the Great and Powerful Ob. Because of my unpatriotic faux pas, I had unknowingly (unintentionally) picked a fight and apparently attacked a reader, all before noon. The whole flap blew up out of nowhere, and it was, um... I'll just say unexpected. Very unexpected. I did try to explain the intentions and thoughts behind the blasphemous error, but then threw in a joke about enemas and underpants, and it all went downhill from there... Apparently, it is immature to suggest a reader needs an enema. It just.should.not.be.done. Who knew? I lost said reader (actually before I ever said anything about enemas)- which, you know... if we're being honest, I'm betting it's not the first time that has happened, but it was the first time a disgruntled reader let me know they were not returning. It was also the first time I lost someone I considered to be a blog buddy. Funny how upsetting it can be to lose a person one never really knew. The whole thing made me feel rather like Howard Stern must feel at the end of the day, albeit on a much, much smaller scale. It was all very exciting, in a small-town scandal kind of way, but that is not the kind of excitement I like.
I don't like confrontation. Some folks thrive on it. Not me. I don't like being "upset." I don't like knowing that someone else is upset with me, at me, around me, or because of me. Some people are great at the whole cat-fight thing... Me? Not so much. I start feeling like I want to throw up. Even when I am the offended party- the one who has been wronged- and I have every reason to be angry, I still feel bad. No, not just bad... Guilty. Like I shouldn't be allowed to be upset. I'm pathetic. I'm also one of those that can never say just the right thing at the right time, but it will come to me later- much too late for it to do me any good. I hate that. I'm one of those that takes things waaaaay too personally when someone says something mean. I don't just shake it off as I should. I internalize it. I let that one crappy remark define me and direct the course of my whole day (or week... or month...). I've always been so jealous of my husband's sense of self-assurance and confidence. He's not easily fazed by others' opinions of him. Not me. I don't do well with the knowledge that I'm not liked. And I'm one of those that tends to react to all strong emotions with tears. I really hate that. Even anger comes out with blubbering. What a pansy I am. And is all of this way more than you ever wanted or needed to know about me?
Anyhoooo. The point? By last night, I was "Up Worrying." Do you do that? I was awake long past the time I should have been snoring with my mouth hanging open, thinking and worrying. Worrying and thinking. Feeling like crap. Not just about the little dust-up on the blog yesterday, but about everything- About the fact that I didn't get any cards mailed out this year. Well, one. Yippee. ONE (By the way, Friends and Family, you're not getting a card from us this year... I'm so, so sorry. It's nothing personal, and you're not being snubbed. Really. It's been a crazy couple of months. I bought cards. They're sitting right here. Thought that counts, right?). Anyway, I was Up Worrying ...about the fact that I still have soooooo much to do before Christmas. About finances and the economy, The Future... The adoption... About the fact that I've been so busy trying to make Christmas special for my kids, that I haven't been spending any time with them- except, it seems, to snap impatiently at them... About the fact that I've been so sick (off and on) for the past 6 weeks, that my sympathy level for my fellow sickos- my own babies- has been, uh... oh... nonexistent. ...And should I really try that new apple crisp recipe for Christmas? What if it sucks? Like I said- EV-ER-Y-THING. And knowing people were mad at me just made it feel ickier. I seriously felt like having a good long cry, both preceded by and immediately followed by a thorough vomit. See? I told you. Total Pansy.
But I had a moment of clarity early this morning as I looked at Bri's precious little sleeping face. I thought to myself, "This is what matters." Not blog "feuds"- people I will never know IRL being mad at me, disliking me... whatever. Not cards, cookies, gifts, and all that crap. Not bills and budgets. I know this sounds so pitifully corny, but it was a nice little epiphany (or "epiphery," as Michael Scott would say, for fans of "The Office"). For once, I was able to say "So What?" about all the stuff in my head, and all the circumstances swirling around me, and honestly mean it. I think I even laughed out loud. I reminded myself that I have everything I need, and so much more than I ever dared to want. I'm so blessed, it's ridiculous. I have a beautiful family, a roof over my babies' heads, good friends, and most importantly, an awesome God who loves me. There truly is nothing to worry about.
Clarity. It's a good thing.