Raspberry Iced M

I spiraled yesterday.

I received two notifications on my phone.

Not back-to-back, but congruently enough that I was affected.

And I don’t even know why.

The first notification was essentially an assertion of blame. I was made aware of a couple of things that were, apparently, my “fault.”

My reflexes caused me to trip. Over accusation. Over what read as judgment. “Look how much harm you’ve caused.” And then a couple of details about someone I try not to think about anymore.

As if my entire identity was wrapped up in this one or two line correspondence.

I didn’t outwardly react. I didn’t respond. I didn’t defend. I didn’t even cry.

Not at first.

But I also didn’t block the sender, or mute future notifications. And that was my first mistake.

Not long after that – because I didn’t react to the first, I suppose – I received another.

No blame this time. Instead, a boastful haiku, of sorts, about how that very same person – who was so destitute and broken in the first notification – is simultaneously much better off without me. Circumstantially. Financially.

And that second notification is what sent me over the edge.

For the past 9 months, I have sort of felt like the living embodiment of a game piece on a board of Chutes and Ladders. I slowly press ahead – one dice roll and one block at a time – occasionally favored with a ladder on my landing space.

I have relied on those ladders. Epiphanies. Clarification. Noticeable advancement. Something that catches my eye when I scan for evidence of worthiness, after all this time and energy.

But there were no ladders yesterday. Just one long, devastating chute, swirling in mockery, to remind me of my mistakes, of my inferiority, of the hopelessness I am destined to find if I ever actually reach the finish line of this game.

Here’s an interesting factoid: Just because we commit to change doesn’t mean that change is linear, and it certainly doesn’t mean that circumstances don’t interrupt the adjustments we are trying to make.

So I want to be the type of person that isn’t offended when other people throw my past in my face. I want to be so settled in who I am, now, that I am unbothered by the opinions of other people.

So far, no luck. Only chutes.

I can resist the urge to outwardly react. I can ignore “in theory.” But my thoughts still straddle the fence between the knee-jerk reactions of Old Me and what I am trying to make those thoughts do now – which is basically dissolve with intention.

“And be renewed in the spirit of your mind; And that ye put on the new man, which after God is created in righteousness and true holiness.” Ephesians 4:23-24

Nine months. Nine excruciating months of trying to take my thoughts captive. Nine months of honest, daily surrender. Forcing myself into exposure therapy. Sitting in sadness, loneliness, overthinking. Crying while folding laundry, because responsibilities don’t pause for breakdowns. Consistently and fervently praying, worshipping, reading…

…all to land on a chute.

Upon receipt of that second notification – which was received while I was still processing the first – my brain immediately switched back to autopilot.

I am a terrible person. Everyone leaves me because I’m not worth a stay. And when they leave, they are all blessed. I am broken. I am the problem. I am irreversibly doomed.

And as my thoughts gave in to the urge to berate me, I froze. No reading. No praying. No journaling. No chores. I didn’t even take a shower yesterday. Instead, I just accepted the fate I’d decided was inevitable in my mind. Because if notifications like that still wreck me after nine months of work, I am obviously not fixable.

I think I made a list, a couple of months ago, of tangible, trackable changes I have made that “prove” that the work I am doing is paying off.

But there was no such proof yesterday. Just reflexes and rumination and regret. I tossed and turned in bed until 1 a.m., reminding myself that I had wasted the day, until my own insults prompted exhaustion.

And I woke up this morning, early, because I had a doctor’s appointment, still settled on last night’s offenses. I showered, almost involuntarily, and then applied just enough face and hair product to, while in public, avoid the comment, “You look tired.”

As I left the house, I made a silent vow to myself: You will get through this day without falling apart.

My 6 a.m. doctor’s appointment ended at 7. I grabbed an iced coffee before returning home, where I spent about an hour straightening up the house. I started a load of laundry, scrubbed the kitchen counters, washed the coffee pot, fluffed the living room pillows, and unboxed some packages I received in the mail yesterday. I placed an online grocery order. And I purchased for myself a Kindle for “Mother’s Day,” although I’d have probably ordered it regardless.

I sipped my iced coffee while I worked. I made small talk with my husband. I snuggled the puppy.

And as I received supplemental phone alerts this afternoon, I deleted them and blocked the sender – without overthinking the idea of a block button, and without clicking on the contents of the information that was sent to me. And while I do not generally equate “blocking” to boundaries, I felt it necessary this time, because I do not trust that I can “will” the restraint necessary to reject additional invitations to take a very low, very avoided-for-the-last-nine-months road…

…because if yesterday provided any data, at all, as to my progress, there is obviously still evidence that certain areas of my past are still sensitive subjects.

But today? Today I didn’t settle into that sensitivity. I paused…just long enough to make a better choice.

And perhaps that’s exactly where growth happens…somewhere in the space between “thinking” and “doing.”