I am sitting here with a plate full of flax seed crackers, applying dollops of natural peanut butter and a touch of chili fig spread. Accompanying this, um, delicacy, are small slices of an aged dill weed cheese and the remnants of the magnificent French press coffee made by my uber husband this morning. After a 40 minute contest of head-to-head stubbornness with this 100+ pound puppy beast I saw fit to add to our lives – I the conqueror – can watch him sulking from a vast 5 feet away instead of smashing his rather large muzzle against the table in an attempt to share my….wealth.
But let me reflect on some of what brought me to this snack, the accompanying attitude, and well, life in general.
This morning. Before 9:00 a.m. I conquered two very large tasks. BOTH involved using a telephone. BOTH just spin my clock.
I have a computer system here at home that belongs to my workplace. Two monitors, headset, keyboard, etc. In November, it just wouldn’t start. Weird messages on the screens. Email IT. Instructions: Unplug everything from everything and then replug it and all should be good. Instructions followed. Not resolved.
Send a second request just before the holiday. Explained what had been tried. Response was: Do that again. But unplug and plug back in immediately and try again. Instructions followed. Not resolved.
So the gentle soul that responds to these requests suggests that we should do this together. He’ll ‘help me’ unplug and plug back in, remotely, through a phone call. Please note that by this time I am convinced that he might be slightly insane. SURELY I am capable of unplugging and plugging. AND I even made hubby try this process before letting them know – for a 3rd time – that it wasn’t working.
Brings us to this morning.
Me: Would you like me to turn it on and let you know what it says on the screen?
Kind IT man: Well, could you tell me how you turn it on?
Me: (Exasperated, but desperate). I click the button on the front right of the monitor with all the gear on the back of it.
Polite IT man: Okay. That actually turns on the monitor, not the computer. Let’s find the on off button on the box on the back of the monitor.
Me: Do you mean to tell me that I haven’t actually turned the machine back on?
Patient IT man: I believe it is a possibility. (Yes, his words exactly.) Let me send you a photo of where to look for the button. You can see it in your email on your phone.
Me:
Me:
Me: Got the photo. Hold on.
Husband: Click
Me: Yes. Yes. Now both monitors are on and the computer set up is working.
Ridiculously kind IT man: Great! Is there anything else I can help you with?
With the newly gained confidence of a decrepit old lady incapable of even turning on a computer, I sat at my kitchen table command center and gathered the pile of dental surgeon referrals, and resignedly pulled up the insurance website to check for prospects with my coverage. For a week I have been putting off finding someone that I could at least not-want-to-slap to help me through a major procedure. (Let me apologize here to those of you who are sensitive to aggression and bad language – and who don’t usually associate that with me. There is an excellent possibility that I will refer to the surgeon that I had already scheduled with but refuse to follow through with….as an AssHat. There. You’re warned. I feel better.)
Narrowed the field. Read the reviews. Ate crackers pretending they were brownies. Selected a victim.
Made the call.
Paid the consultation fee in advance (no other choice) and made the appointment.
Searched the house for chocolate – and came up empty handed.
Sat at the command center and ugly cried on the crackers. Finished the coffee. Took the next step.
Decided to write.
Because, my friends, life just isn’t Instagram pretty. Sometimes it’s baggy sweatshirts, embarrassing situations, overwhelming anxiety, compression socks, aching joints, annoying large puppies, and you. Just you. Dealing with life.
Do you deal with it gracefully? Because I’m here to tell you – I certainly do not. I am competent (okay, that might be going by the wayside, too, if you speak to Amazing IT man) solid, kind, usually generous, interested, happy in my life, blessed by family and friends – but there’s big – and then there’s BIG.
BIG – like when they had me walk down a long hall to go have a C-Section. What?
BIG – like when you see your Dad behind the glass wall in the ICU.
BIG – like watching your husband grieve his mother’s death.
BIGBIG. So the AssHat? When I did a BIG and went for a consultation. I asked my terrified-me questions. He was efficient. He was condescending. He was rude and deprecating. He let it be known that I was old, and a mess, and well, unwelcome. AND I STILL SIGNED UP FOR AN APPOINTMENT FOR THE SURGERY.
Then I sat in my car and screamed for about 10 minutes. Until a woman knocked on my window to ask if I was okay. (Now THAT was a stupid question. Kind. But stupid.). Then I complained to my husband, both of my daughters, my brother, my boss, and two friends. When all routes of avoidance and angst were exhausted – I sat down, made the call, made a new appointment and breathed a small sigh of relief. (Then I consoled the man-sized toddler puppy who was still 5 feet away, but whining anxiously because his mom appeared to be insane.)
It’s our 27th anniversary today, my Steve and I. We already voted for him bringing home some yummy take-out and the two of us staying in and cuddling, watching some movie or another and just being side by side. His spectacular partnership is the clearest and brightest statement God has ever presented me with. He – both of them side-by-side: God and Steve – keeps me walking the walk that has been placed before me. Living the life. Feeling the feels. Loving the love. We marvel at our relationship – the bold strength of two souls who solidly support and believe. Who laugh at the tears and the fears – together.
This isn’t Instagram pretty. It’s better than that.
Growing into the wild variety of emotions and thoughts and trials in a more honest relationship with myself – has allowed me to build a stronger foundation. I really do not care one hoot how someone else would have handled this morning’s events. The IT debacle, the embarrassment, the dental call I’d avoided, the fears associated with teeth and phones and hard conversations. Yeah, it wasn’t pretty, refined, gentle, or fun. But it doesn’t need to be. I don’t have to smile when I’m grim. I am not required to sparkle when I’m rolling through bland. There is no need for holding in tears of frustration, anger and fear when you are sitting by a plate of healthy cracker snacks wishing for all the world that you were pounding down a triple layer chocolate cake with a shocking amount of icing.
So. I will call an AssHat an AssHat and be done with it. I have conquered my ‘stuff’ for the moment, made decisions, handed out the required adultness and pounded my words to the world. This life. It’s pretty flipping amazing. It is full of love, laughter, learning, and family. It doesn’t look – One. Tiny. Bit. – like I thought it would look. Not an iota. But God’s got it. And His view is better than mine. And if He made me to be this me, then okay. That’s who I am.
Thanks. Happy 27th, Steven, you amazing wonder. Sorry about your luck. YOU are stuck with me. The rest of these folks have choices.
wanderingoutinleftfield 