To be honest, tonight I’m feeling a little lost.
No surprise to those who know me at all. I’m a wanderer. A gypsy at times. Feeling lost doesn’t scare me – and if I were completely transparent I would admit that it’s a good excuse for me.
Tonight, though, I’m realizing that I’m coming down off of several months of absolute, what’s the word I’m looking for . . . yeah, that’s it . . . frizziness.
My life for the past several months is best described with my hair.
When we went to Florida in December, my hair expanded. I needed a hat to cover it up because, really, nobody’s hair should look like that. If you’ve ever seen the episode of Friends where they are in Barbados, you can get the picture.
Now, in some conditions, I’ve been able to control my hair. A good dose of mousse and hairspray will typically do the trick. But throw in the least amount of humidity and it’s outta control.
And so goes my life.
I helped with an event this weekend at school where I saw a bunch of people that I haven’t seen in over a year. The last time I saw them, I was about 4 days from giving birth to Henley (I’d like to say I look thinner than I did at 9 months of pregnancy, but I don’t think I do). It was a startling reminder of all that has happened in a year.
Baby. (Awesome baby, I might add)
Many of them remembered the baby part. Not many of them knew about the cancer part. I’m still a bit perplexed over the fact that it is part of my story.
Let’s just say, there has been some humidity.
I wish I knew the trick to taming the effects of the humidity of life. I wish there was some sort of product at Target that could calm the spirit when the inside of my soul feels so frizzy.
I know, I know. I know what you’ll say. I know that there isn’t a trick – that it’s about resting in the presence of God. Yes, yes, yes, I know that. Shut up.
(That sounds harsh – but hold on)
I think so many times I’ve been on the giving end of that kind of advice and I don’t know that I was correct in that. Because, honestly, it sounds like it makes God some sort of product to purchase for a fix to a specific problem.
And I don’t want to use God like that. If that makes sense.
I think I need a new hairdo.
Know what I mean?
I think I need to shave my noggin and start over.
I’m at a point where re-evaluation has to happen – where I have to consider things anew. I don’t want a product to tame the frizziness. I want different hair.
I don’t want to feel this overwhelming sense of anxiety – that sometimes makes me feel like I need to search for my inhaler.
I don’t want to feel like my shoulders are permanently attached to my earlobes.
I don’t want to feel guilty for resting.
I don’t want to feel rushed 24/7.
I don’t want my life to feel . . . frizzy.
And so I will take a deep breath. And try to not give into what Linford would call, “The incurable whirling disease.”
Tonight I am asking “now what?”
And I hope the answer is less rather than more.