6 Weeks ’til Summer: Part 2

This is week two in a six weeks series.

There’s actually two gray eyelashes. And when I looked at them while putting on some mascara, I noticed that they are actually white. And they stick out like a sore thumb. If you read part one in this series, 6 Weeks ’til Summer: Part 1, you know that these eyelashes are an anomaly for me. They’re what I’ve decided is my tell for internalized stress; and the stress is heavy folks.

I’ve been ruminating for the last couple of days about what I’d write about the past week. It was the usual – work, school, kids’ practices, soccer, etc. But on Monday, I watched as multiple people ran stop signs during the morning drop-off hour. After the third person breezed through a four way stop, I knew exactly what I would write about. Last week I finished out my post with questioning my faith. And after my mini-meltdown Sunday, I’ll come back to that, I realized that faith was indeed my issue. But the stop sign incidents helped me realize what’s wrong with my faith – a lack of patience. Stopping at a stop sign takes no more than about ten seconds. But if you’re in a hurry or running late to work, that ten seconds feels like a lifetime. So you pause, sometimes check for traffic, and keep rolling. Most of the time when you hit that California stop, as my husband calls it, and you carry on unscathed. But sometimes, you get pulled over by the police, or worse – cause an accident. Me? Sometimes I wait patiently for my time to move through the stop sign and others – I blow through, full speed ahead, praying I come out unscathed.

Here’s the thing. When I was having my mini-meltdown on Sunday, my husband reminded me of some things – I’ve been in this position before and I don’t control the universe. I know both of these things but when I’m in a hurry, I forget about them. I pray and ask God for an answer and expect same-day delivery – as if He’s Amazon. And if I can’t get same-day, I expect two-day shipping, right to the front door, and it better be exactly what I ordered. What I did remember though is that when I rush through the stop sign, even if the damage isn’t immediate, it can be colossal. And I had to decide Sunday if it was worth rushing through the stop sign. It isn’t.

There’s something else my husband said as well, and it made sense. This whole time I’ve had a plan. I know unequivocally what I want. But in order to have it, I’d have to give up some other things. And the truth is, the reason that my children want what they want, how they want it and when they want it, is because I’m the exact same way. So I’ve had to really think about what I want and what I’m willing to give up to have it. Because as I constantly remind myself, everything has a price. I just have to decide how much I’m willing to pay.

To be continued…

6 Weeks ’til Summer: Part 1

This is week one of a six weeks series. 

My gray eyelash is back. I noticed it last week as I was fidgeting with my contacts. I hoped and prayed that it was matter from the irritation of the pollen reeking havoc on my life; but, it wasn’t. My marker of internalized stress is back – it’s long.

The first time I noticed the discolored lash was a few months after my daughter was born. I was sitting in my car in the parking lot of my mom’s job, waiting for her to come out and see the baby and so I could pretend I wasn’t drowning in post-partum depression. As I glanced in the overhead mirror I saw a shimmer. After blinking for what seemed like a thousand times, I realized that it was a gray eyelash. Here’s the thing – I didn’t and still don’t have a gray hair on my head. While my husband seems to have three new ones pop up every week, and he’s three months younger than I am, I have not gotten a single one. I panicked that soon my whole head would be gray. And considering that I didn’t have my daughter until I was 29, I worried that people would think I was ‘old’. Low and behold, after I came out of my terrible bout of post-partum depression, the gray eyelash disappeared.

It’s only ever made a reappearance when things in life are, by my standards, out of control. Like when my son started having ear infections every six weeks. Or when his first set of ear tubes came out after six months. Or when my aunt was diagnosed with cancer. Or when, or when, or when. Medication and therapy have helped me manage most of my physical reactions to stress but apparently not enough to stop the lash from popping out.

So here we are, about six weeks out from the end of another school year, and I’m a nervous wreck. You see, I’ve made a decision to make a major career change. I was pushed into a part-time situation in October and it changed my life. Yes, financially it was a hit to our bank account. But God did and still does provide so the only hit was to the way we thought about money. The biggest change though was in who I’ve become as a wife and a mother. Save the usual annoyances all wives and mothers face, I’ve been more patient, more helpful, and more willing to be Suzy Homemaker than I ever have before. And I love it. Yes, wiving and mothering are relentless and sometimes I don’t feel appreciated but there’s nothing more gratifying than cleaning an entire house, getting the laundry done, and running errands with a smile. But there’s one tiny problem. This change also forced me out of my comfort zone. It opened my eyes to how I was allowing myself to be treated and pushed me right off the edge. But it’s even more complicated than that – I’ve never left a job without having another one. I’m a responsible adult. I have excellent credit, no debt except a mortgage, and I tithe. How could I possibly even consider walking away without a solid plan and a ‘guaranteed’ paycheck? I have faith that God can and will provide. But this gray eyelash? It’s making me question just how deep my faith is…

To be continued…