During the middle of a smoldering summer day, I pushed the three and 1/2 wheeled shopping cart to my car. I was under enormous pressure to complete my overreaching to do list that day, and I found myself stressed and overwhelmed. The humidity made my clothes cling to me and the scorching rays of the sun caused my throat to be dry as the desert sand. I fumbled with my key and then opened the trunk to deposit my dozen or so plastic Mart bags. I secured the cart with my left foot by the bottom bar and proceeded to make my transfer. “Last one.” I thought hoping to cheer myself onto completion. I misjudged the height of the trunk side and bumped the plastic bottles on the side of the metal trunk. The bag tore like wrapping paper on Christmas morning, and one by one my two 2-liter sodas bounced on the hot concrete and began to roll across the parking lot. I panic and decide to chase down by purchases that were quickly escaping not even thinking about the fact that I had let go of the shopping cart. Now this Mart that we must shop at because there are no others is built on a slight incline. Just enough to keep any unmanned projectile picking up speed. I captured one of my soda bottles and then became keenly aware that my cart was careening in the direction of several parked cars.
I began to attempt to catch the cart for fear I should be the reason for someone’s insurance claim. It must have been a sight watching a slightly overweight, middle-aged woman with a physical disability in her back, attempting to subdue a runaway shopping cart. The miracle of Miracles, I reached the cart just before it kissed the side of a practically new Sudan. I panted in exhaustion and scanned the parking lot for a cart return. I pushed the buggy to its resting spot mumbling under my breath about how stupid the whole thing was. Then I remembered I had one more soda to find. I use find here because, in hindsight, that was exactly what I had to do. This thing had rolled underneath the cars and appeared to be completely gone. I was about to just give up when I decided to get down on my hands and knees and see if I could spot it. Simple enough. See it. Retrieve it. Go home.
So there I was crouching down, leaning on the sizzling pavement with my bare hands, and the bottom falls out of the sky. It was one of those Florida summer pop-up thundershowers that arrive with practically no warning. I was feeling angry. I was on the verge of tears. Then there it was in my mind’s eye I could see myself: drenched and practically in a fetal position in the middle of a parking lot next to some strangers car. I would have a hard time believing this story if someone I didn’t know were skulking around my car in the rain. Then from way down deep inside, I began to giggle. I knew I looked foolish. I looked crazy running across that parking lot chasing carts and soda bottles. Now I am drenched, makeup is streaking down my face, and my hair is tousled from practically standing on my head. I smiled resigning myself to sacrifice the lost soda.
I stood up and attempted to straighten my clothes as they hugged my torso. I looked upward and allowed the cool rain to wash over me. I walked to the car. I got inside and drove away as if nothing had happened. But I smiled all the way home. It was all so silly. Before the rain, I was so angry, and now I feel almost giddy.
We are all human. We all make mistakes. We all have issues. Next time you are not clear on what is causing a person to behave in an “out of the ordinary” manner just remember, they may have been on their knees caught in the rain.
As a mother, I feel that I am qualified to say that life with children is a roller-coaster experience! I came across this story on thoughtfulcatalog.com and thought I would share it. Please note: One word was changed to keep our G-Rating.
Just like anyone who lives with chronic issues, I am aware of my symptoms. I have depression/anxiety with panic attacks. The triggers or things that cause symptoms to worsen can usually be easy to identify, and then easy to avoid. Sounds simple enough. If a particular person or a particular action creates more anxiety for me then I will just avoid them, right? Yeah, not so much. Besides overtime triggers can seem to change, reactions, as well as the response, can also begin to vary.
My symptoms began to terrify me in new and different ways this past weekend. I have suffered from anxiety with panic attacks for many years and I may not stop them but I have learned to slow them down. Well at least until my symptoms presented themselves uncommonly. Instead of heart palpitations, there was a weakness. Instead of hyperventilating, I simply had to force my air back and forth. Nevertheless, I was caught off guard by these new time thieves. Several hours later I still do not know what triggered that debilitating episode. For more stories on symptoms and day to day life: Tidal Wave
So I make an appointment with my psychiatrist who after a lengthy discussion feels the medical Dr needs to evaluate me. Once I see the regular physician, she wants me to see a specialist. Now, while I am being passed from doctor to doctor I am receiving some treatment. However, since I am being sent on is it the right treatment? Or is this some sort of medical sport they play with us? All I truly understand is that when you need help you generally do not want that to wait. Period. Yes, I know I am not the only ill person in the world and that the doctor has other patients to see, but my symptoms are screaming at me which in turn make me want to scream at them.
So I will take my medication like a good girl and I will wait for my referral. And I will pray a prayer of thanks that God doesn’t require a referral. He will see me now. He will listen now. He understands now and is working on my behalf now.
I have decided to be 49 forever. I have a birthday this winter but have resigned to not move forward. Sure all my friends and family expect the big 5-0, but that is just too bad. It is not happening. I’m too young to be 50, and not old enough to get the perks of a senior citizen. Too old for the younger crowd and too young for the older group. A space of time in the universe when you just don’t fit.
My son tells me I am old, but he is a teenager and that is an expected position. Both of my grown daughters tell me that I am beautiful and do not look my age. Really? They can’t seem where time has marched across my face leaving crows feet and lines in their wake. I see them. The roadmap that shows that I have devoted many hours being mother, wife, caretaker, chief cook, and bottle washer.
O, I am not complaining. I have had a blessed life. Yet, here I stand on the cusp of “middle age” and I wonder if I have just been a passenger in the vehicle of life or if I have truly lived to the fullest?
My house is full of family members for one reason or the other. I seldom have a moment to myself, let alone a moment with my husband. I feel stress and worry that drag me down. I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety with panic attacks many years ago. They do not necessarily do they come or stay in this order. If you have been there, you will understand. If not, you do not yet. My goal is to show what this regularly all consuming diagnosis feels like and how best I cope day to day. Hobbies/crafts help with my diagnosis and I will share mine and ideas you might want to try. There is a biblical reference to each story I share. That will hopefully encourage you in your own walk. Laughter relieves stress so there will be a bit of that too. I am of the opinion, you can not survive without that!
So, while I empty the nest, there is much to occupy my time. Join me on my journey and maybe together we can make a better world for those who fight every day. Let us begin the journey here: Caught in the Rain