A couple of days ago as I was getting everyone out the door, and yes, of course we were late… I stepped up my neurotic-pressured-panicked-oh-my-god-the-world- is-going-to-end-if-we-don’t-get-out-the-door-at-7:20 thing. And after a few minutes of infusing the atmosphere with my freak-out spirit, Harrison, my 15-year-old looked me in the eye and said,” Mom, your harshing my morning mellow.”
I have had one of those weeks. Harshing my mid-morning mellow, harshing my late afternoon mellow…I should read my own blog. No Zen here, no looking at my part, no understanding the other person’s perspective. Ego pulsating, fragile, and weakened by my personal version of The Lord of the Rings or as my husband has called it, “Job Lite,”I have not traversed well on the temporal plane.
So here I am, facing the mess in the soulish kitchen. Lots of dishes in the sink. Chunks of who-knows-what on the floor. Trash overflowing. No morning mellow here. And as I get quiet, the truth is that I am sad.
You know in life we accumulate a lot of unprocessed hurt that gets stored in the linen closets of our lives. I’ve got a bunch. The death of my mom and all the tendrils of pain that came with that long eight months of decline, as well as a plethora of other rather serious assaults that have made me suspicious of humanity have been stuffed, rather carelessly, into psychic suitcases, sat on to close, and then locked. I am sure this is what is meant by “having baggage.”
But I know that can’t be a stopping place. I don’t want to use past hurt as an excuse for not loving and embracing life. And quite honestly, I have spent this week building little walls, little barricades against what I perceived to be hostile enemy activity. And as delicious as bathing in the oozing attitudes of so-pissed-off-people-are-so-stupid can be, it is a delicacy not digestible to my soul. For you see, I don’t want my mellow harshed and I am ultimately the gate-keeper of my soul.
So what are my steps after this confession? Forgiveness is in order…forgiveness of me and my crazy-assed sensitivity. Secondly, I just have inquire of God, “Just what is this about?” “Why am I having issues here?” Lastly, it is let-it-all-go time with the people I have held hostage, in the spiritual realm, over this week. I don’t know why what I vibed so darkly with their state-of-being . What I do know is that it was me who had some open portal to receiving and reacting to the incoming message. And that alone, is the only thing I can do anything about.
I am not sure if I could describe myself as achieving anything close to a morning mellow again, for I am quite a piece of work. But I am in a better place to receive some grace to restore me to sanity.