working on resilience, gratitude, not being completely small…
Wednesday, November 18 
One week after an epic snowstorm, the roads around Bozeman are finally in good shape again.Last weekend the disposal broke. Not a big deal, except for the rotten stuff from my fridge floating in sludge halfway up the sink. Then I broke a dish. Also not a big deal except that I’m sure it set some sort of Guinness Record for shattering into the most pieces ever recorded; some remarkable interplay of CorningWare and physics that I can’t wrap my brain around. I thought I’d gotten it all up, but then throughout the week I kept finding evidence of shoddy cleanup which required taking tweezers to microscopic glass shards in my foot.
Shawn fixed the disposal, but then the sink nozzle snapped off. Now it’s like a third-world well where water just spurts willy nilly out of a pipe and you try to catch it in your glass or measuring cup.
Then my glasses broke, and I haven’t had time to get them fixed. Did I mention the brakes on our hunting vehicle? Shawn uses it on weekends, but then I drive it to work during the week so he can use our smaller car for his longer commute. Anyway, Monday morning he said, “By the way, the brakes might grind a little when you stop. Got a little dirt in there this weekend, but it’ll work its way out.”
He and Oldest Son had taken it on 50 miles of muddy, gritty roads while hunting. I backed out of the driveway to what sounded like those CorningWare shards in a blender. Then at the stoplight: WAIT. Are stoplights just guidelines? Like, Whoa there cowgirl, let’s slow it down a bit here? If yes, then the brakes are fine.
Then we got a record snowstorm that dumped 25 inches of snow on Wednesday, so I couldn’t tell whether it was the brakes or ice that made it necessary to start braking half a block from the nearest vehicle.
And work. I can’t elaborate about work except to say that once every few months, two of the magazines I manage deadline for press the same week. I can usually pull it off if nothing goes wrong. (Salutations, Mr. Murphy. I am familiar with your law. Truce?)
So by Friday? Look out. My Inner Bitch rolled into town and turns out she EATS people who make the mistake of talking to her. Also, Youngest Son was sick and coughing up some sort of nasty alien gack and had to stay home from school which meant a long lunch break at home for me, driving with “adventure-brakes” to and from work while racing deadlines.
Friday afternoon my phone rang and right after “Hello,”— before I could begin listing the crap that had happened this week — Mr. Bitter spent 15 minutes angrily detailing all the terrible things the world had foisted upon him, all the completely unfair impediments to his happiness, and that’s when I was like, OH.
It was like he had just given me a much-needed cup of Shut the Hell Up. It was like I was hearing myself on the other end of that line, because the things going on in Mr. Bitter’s life (like mine) really didn't sound like a big deal — they were just life. I offered a word of sympathy, hung up and thought, Dude, it’s called RESILIENCE.
Which made me wonder, are some people born with more resilience than others, and can you cultivate it? I know resilient people; they’re the ones you’re always thinking to yourself, “Wow, Ned just rolls with whatever happens.” Their house burns down and they’re like, “S’pose I could crash on your couch?”
I want to roll with things. I don’t want to be so self-centered that I forget about the world outside my bubble where people don’t have jobs, worry about food, or are losing their homes. I want to notice when someone genuinely needs a shoulder.
After my little epiphany, I managed to make some lemonade out of the lemons that snowstorm dumped. I went cross-country skiing for the first time this year, and I’m happy to say the Beyatch has left the building. It’s just me now. And I’m nice. See? It’s safe to talk to me. Come here and sit on the couch and tell me what’s bugging you.
END NOTE: As I prepared to post this entry I read the Blogher of the Week’s winning post. It’s by an amazing Utah woman who is trying to figure out happiness and peace after suffering terrible burns from a plane wreck that left her disfigured…
Then this: A fellow blogger, Annisa Mayhew, whom I’ve never met but have admired and been reading for months on the sites Aiming Low, Free Anissa and Hope 4 Peyton — just 36 years old and with young children (one of whom was diagnosed with leukemia in 2006 and is finally in remission) — has suffered a massive stroke and is in an ICU unit.
I’m holding these two ladies close to my heart. I feel ashamed, but maybe instead of wallowing in that I’ll just try to be a better, less self-centered person. No more wondering if the universe is conspiring to undo my sanity…I’m getting a grip.
Reader Comments (10)
I just found out about your blog from your Mother, and I spent a hilarious hour reading your stuff. I can't remember when I've laughed so hard. I've always loved your writing. I still have an article you wrote years ago about hiking with your young son (who is oldest son, I think) and throwing rocks in the water with your "nature baby." I'm glad you've kept it up and keep us laughing.
I want to be you when I grow up. Even the 12 year old boy, you. I'm a wallower. I hold on. Then people say crazy things to me like "How can you just deal with it?" and I think "Uh, by drinking, HELLO??!?!" Oh, I mean..I think, "What? who's dealing with it? I just ate your weight PLUS mine in cheddar goodness.:
Anyway.
Roll with it baby.
You know, I think my sense of humor would have disappeared down that garbage disposal too, so I hope you won't beat yourself up about it too much.
I think that resilience is both a genetic trait and one that you can cultivate. I also think that sometimes we're more resilient than others. And finally, I think that if we're paying attention, the universe or God or whatever you want to call it has a way of sending semaphore messages like the one you got to help us remember we're not alone in the world.
Hope you get some more skiing in - I'm jealous of that, sitting here in the MidAtlantic where people complain if it gets below 60 in November.
Yo neesieI Don't beat yourself up. Inner Bitch needs to have some airtime every now and then, even though our problems seem small compared to others. As long as you can chill the beyatch before she gets out of control, which I think you have no trouble doing.
Mary: Wow, how cool is that? I had no idea you've been reading me...Can I come over and say hi to you and your "kids" over Christmas?
Heidi:Nachos are a mainstay at my house. I too have been known to eat my weight in cheddar goodness, with a side of jalopenos to burn out what ails me :)
Mara: Should you ever make it this way (Yellowstone Park? Glacier?) I'd be delighted to take you skiing.
FaveAuntie: Hoo-boy. She got her airtime alright. At one point last week, I yelled at work. And I'm not really a yeller. Lucky me, I still have a job.
I hear you! I often get all stressed out about the "huge burden" I have to deal with. Then I hear something on the radio or wherever about kids not having enough food or all the atrocities of war. That puts things into perspective pretty quickly. I just wish I could keep that perspective longer.
I am so glad you can chill out by going skiing. We all need to let out our inner beyatch if not we could snap and kill something. Just think if this blog continues to catch on you can buy a margerita with all your newfound income and just chill. Don't forget your sisters are here for you babe and we lived with Shawn too. lol
I think some people ARE born with a bit more of a roll-with-the-punches attitude, but I think it can be learned and/or pretended into reality.
Also, my house did actually burn down when I was young. To the ground. On Christmas morning. And I honestly think that experience really helped me learn how to be okay with things being awful(or great.) Fact is, things always get better. Or worse. Then better. Then worse again... But they never ever stay the same which is, well, interesting and fun if you think about it.
Megan,
Somehow on this blessed Sunday I remembered to look up your blog. After a day yelling at the kids, wishing desperately I could uphold the image of myself as the loving, patient, roll-with-it-mama, your insights have given me hope.
Melynda: That's the key, I think. Because I think most of us know how good our lives are, it's just remembering it at the right times.
SDA: I know, I'm lucky to have you both!
Susan: I'm going to email you about this. We have lots in common.
Heidi: Yay!! Thanks for looking me up. Glad I could help in some small way...