Monday-itis, or the “Blue Mondays” is not something I have ever suffered from. Helpless excitement at the beginning of anything (yes, even a new week) is one of my optimism-induced afflictions that I don’t mind cultivating, not to mention Monday has been my Saturday for quite a while now, which just adds to my immunity to the Post-Weekend Depression that seems to hit most Americans. I feel this is important to the following post because my first inclination is to blame my total freaking meltdown on Monday to it just being Monday.
I am extremely talented at minimizing.
Briefly, here are the extenuating details to the collapse of civilized humanity that was me three days ago: about three weeks ago, one of my besties drove a long way to visit, and take me to and support me after a procedure that – for so many reasons- failed to occur on that day. (I could tell you that story but it just makes me mad. If you know what FUBAR means… the literal definition was revealed to me August 30. MOVING ON!)
September 9 was set as the new date for the procedure. This procedure is called an epidural, or cortisone shot, and is often helpful in relieving back and neck pain. It’s not surgery and it’s not a big deal. But I was also not allowed to drive for the rest of the day after having it done. SO! My mother drove an even longer way than my bestie did, to take me to and support me after the procedure. And this time it got done! September 9 was a Monday, and Tuesday I actually was cautiously optimistic about feeling pretty good. But then Thursday morning, three or four hours after falling asleep, I was woken up by a severe amount of pain. The same thing happened on Friday and Saturday mornings too. Saturday night I started sleeping in the guest room. Sunday and Monday I woke up in pain, but not because of it. Which is different, and better, but still enormously sucky.
This Monday, my mother texts to ask how my neck is feeling. It is feeling bad. As I respond I am having a strong negative reaction about being asked “the question” and the answer I’m giving pisses me off too. However, at this point any time any one asks me “the question” about “the neck” I have a strong negative reaction and an even stronger desire to scream, so I think nothing of it.
I go to Zumba class, have a great time, get in my car and start driving home. Suddenly I am overwhelmed by an urge to cry, so I do. I get home, get in the shower, and cry. Out of the shower, getting ready to go to a doc appointment, hubby and I have a conversation. During the conversation it is revealed to everyone present (me, my husband) that I am not in a good mood. Nothing productive comes of this conversation (though hindsight shows the lack of murder means progress on both our parts).
On my way home from the doc I realize that no human, I mean NO ONE, should have to deal with me in my current state. I text my husband that I am still not feeling well and would appreciate if he could just not talk to me at all when I come into the house. Then I wait to see if he’ll agree to my psycho conditions (which he does unquestioningly, since he is The Best Husband Ever), go straight into the guest room and shut the door. I lay down on the bed, totally shaking, stifling my dramatic sobs and weeping like an emo teen from hell.
Now, there’s a prayer that any human, having reached the end of their capacity to cope with their circumstances, will say in a generally upward direction (yes even athiests, in my experience, will direct their internal pleadings skyward, even though they don’t believe anything is there except space). The prayer goes something to the effect of “HELP ME.” It can be elaborated on but less is more in times of trouble. As I roll back and forth on the bed, clutching myself and pleading the Universe to please, please help me… an answer comes. And when the answer comes, I don’t question it. I know it is right, and that if I can just do this thing I will find relief and the strength to carry on.
What is this miraculous answer you ask? Well, I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you that it is not to call one of my spiritual sisters, or to read an inspirational book, or journal, or simply sit in silence and meditate on gratitude. Nope.
My Higher Power tells me to get out the iPad and look at the Humor page on Pinterest. (That’s right. You read it. Pinterest. You know this thing, this Pinterest? I have only recently been “pinning” things myself. It’s fun, cheaper than real shopping and also a total time suck ) I do as directed, no hesitation, no thought of how absurd it sounds that my deeply despairing self is going to use an app to heal her soul. I start scrolling through the Humor page, and lo and behold! I stop crying and cease feeling sorry for myself as I look at pictures of cats and dogs, silly e-cards and memes and the occasional clever cartoon or photo.
Ninety minutes later, I feel strong enough to text my husband and ask for some water and a hug, which he delivers with a smile and cheerful “hello.” I remember how much I really, really like my husband, outside of the undying and unconditional love I have for him. Which in turn reminds me of all the abundant joy and blessings of my life. Feeling fragile, I get out of bed and make myself continue reading “It Starts with Food” which was recommended by a friend. In regards to when one should start eating the anti-inflammatory food choices outlined within, the book has the words “Start right now.” and so I just do. I get up and make myself a meal that complies with a non-inflammatory diet. It tastes good.
(I’ve been eating that way every since. It’s only been 3 full days, and I’m not sure I feel any better or worse. But I can’t really say I’ve tried everything until I try to change how I fuel my body, and follow a plan that is supposed to relieve inflammation. Another plus is that it’s more healthy than my normal, see-food <I see food, I eat it!> diet. I had planned to start October 1st, but apparently the book caught me in a vulnerable moment. I’m not mad.)
I spent the rest of the day just taking it easy, and I lived to blog another day. Below I have included a sample of the kind of inanity the Pinterest Humor board offers as a spiritual healing tool. The Universe truly does work in mysterious ways, and for that I am grateful.