Yesterday my new window fan arrived in the mail. Somehow I managed to order one that won't fit my window. Now I could go on a rant of huge proportion on how misleading it is to label a fan 20" when in reality it is 26"x26". I could build up a good head of steam on this one, because railing against accepted convention is my forte.
Instead, I just want to write a simple little diary about the crazy way I deal with disappointment.
It took me half a day to even realize I was disappointed. About the fan I mean.
The first thing I did was notice a buzzing in my head that made me feel sort of trapped. I looked around the house and noticed how cluttered everything was, and that increased the buzzing. So I put my kids into action decluttering and unpiling the house. That helped a little bit, and then I found myself doing lots of tasks that have needed done and that have been falling along the wayside.
At some point, I managed to put the fan out of my brain entirely and the productivity levels really kicked into gear. But something was nagging me and when I stopped for a moment to ask myself what I was feeling, I got the image of a horse running from a whip.
Well, the kids needed to be driven to their karate classes and the pets needed food so off we all went.
I had an off-putting conversation with my optometrist to looked into my eyes and told me that I should worry about my triglycerides. That's what finally did it. Driving away from his office I felt hopeless and depleted and it's one thing to feel that way, but I have a little trick where I think outlandish and frightening things when I feel strong feelings. So the next thing I know I'm making gloomy statements to myself about my impending death and general failure to succeed and what the heck, I'd better feel sorry for my kids who have this kind of role model in their lives. How are they ever going to be able to make their way in this world with this economy and the naked greed running the country? Good lord, we are all doomed.
People don't believe me in real life when I try to tell them this part of me. They think I'm so amusing when I talk about it that it can't be real. But I'm just agreeing with my grandma who used to say "Oh honey, it's better to laugh than cry!".
Luckily I have trained myself to notice the doomed self talk and recognize that something has triggered it. And that is when I started looking around and remembered the window fan. A little voice whined at me that all I wanted to do was buy a damned fan and now it doesn't work and what am I going to do.
I'm learning to accept myself, belatedly. I mean, I wish I could handle disappointments more gracefully. It's not fun to fight my way back to emotional stability from the edge of full on panic. But on the bright side, I got a whole lot of crap taken care of before I realized I was feeling disappointed.
I can't be the only one who does this though… right?