Once upon a time, there was this girl who thought that she controlled her own fate. She thought if you work hard towards something, good things will happen to you. She thought with proper planning, anything was possible. Every problem had a well thought out plan. She thought things had to be aligned just right. There always had to be a plan, and not only a plan for that, but also a plan for what will occur after the initial plan worked out. Things hadn’t always been easy, but with hard work and determination things were going according to plan, and since it was her plan, she was quite happy with it.
During the “Year of Mayhem”, we experienced a death… THE DEATH OF THE PLANNER. After all, what is a planner to do when absolutely nothing goes according to plan. Things didn’t just “not go according to plan" they suddenly became the worse possible outcome. Even simple plans for picking up a prescription at the pharmacy didn’t go according to plan.
I remember at the height of the insanity, I had a pep talk with myself. This weekend, I am not going to leave the house, by not leaving the house, I would minimize the amount of crazy happening to me. I’m just going to go to bed and relax. In hindsight, I realize this was in fact an actual plan, and all plans were being poo poo’d on. That weekend the entire closet just fell out of the wall. We had issues with the dogs. I went to bed thinking, what else could happen (never ever under any circumstances should you ever utter the phrase). Again, I tried to give myself a pep talk, go to bed, tomorrow is a new day. Start fresh tomorrow. Sometime during the middle of the night, a stink bug decided to crawl down my shirt as I slept. I woke up to a tickle in between my boobs. I instantly woke up to a panic, as I felt the bug with my hand. I’m freaking out, screaming bloody murder. The familiar scent of the stink bug filled the room. A stink bug released his stench down my shirt.
"Motorboating is fun!"
I hate bugs! Probably because they tend to attack me. I have been chased by a praying mantis. Slapped in the face by a cicada’s wings as it brutally attacked me. I could start a show called, When Bugs Attack. It’s a long horrid history.
"You want a piece of me?!"
It was the stink bug attack that officially killed the planner. It was almost as if God was laughing at me, saying “you think you can just go to sleep, you think for one second that you can just avoid this? I can mess with you in your house, I can screw with you while you are sleeping. I am in control here… NOT YOU!”.
And so I surrender, I acknowledge I am nothing but a puppet for some type of master plan that I am not privy to. I am not in control. I have no say.
"Yes master! More please!"
This past year has changed me. I don’t think the old me would even recognize the new me. The new me is sort of reckless. Makes no plans. Can’t think much further into the future than next week. Thinks her 401k is a debit card. Hopes at some point things will get better, but realizes that just because I hope, doesn’t mean that it will.
I think the new me feels a lot like the people who got off the Titanic right before it sunk.
“WHEW! We just jumped off a sinking ship! YAY!”
“Shit, this water is cold!”
“How long until they come to save us?”
"Shit! This water is cold.”
"I thought they said someone would be here hours ago?"
And so we wait… for a rescue, that might not ever come.
Things aren’t all bad. My husband and I have never been closer. This process has helped weed out some craptastic people. We have great friends and family. New friends have come into our lives that have showed such kindness and support. House chores are now outsourced. We try to squeeze fun into everything. I've also found this fine group of ladies going through similar struggles. It's nice to not feel so alone. For all the darkness that has filled up our lives, we are starting to see some glimmers of light.