I do cry when I'm mad, like really, REALLY mad and I may get teary eyed while watching a movie or TV show, but that's about it. However, there are times when I've reached the point where I feel like I've lost. Lost the ability to control things. Lost the ability to clear the fuzziness and uneasiness in my brain. There comes a point where I feel so out of control, so defeated and so frustrated that I lose it. It happened yesterday.
When I do finally lose it, I don't just randomly start to cry; something has to provoke it.
Yesterday it was a song.
A lovely, innocuous Christmas song.
I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day
I pulled up this song on You Tube, simply because I think it's a beautiful song. I had no intention of bawling my eyes out; I just wanted to listen to the song. But as the song went on, with the beautiful melody and the children's choir in the background, I cried. I couldn't have stopped it, not even if I tried. The song is based on a poem by Longfellow. I'll be the first to admit that poetry isn't really my thing, but, for curiosity's sake, I took the time to read "Christmas Bells." It's kind of sad; Longfellow was certainly tormented by the loss of his wife and his son's war injury, but thankfully, the poem is hopeful at the end.
We could all use a little hope in the end.
So, here I sat, chair pulled up to the kitchen island with my laptop open and the song playing, and I cried. I cried real tears and it felt good. Why I feel the need to share this with you, I have no idea? I think I could have cried for ages, but eventually my tears were interrupted by a phone call from the Ford dealer informing me that I need to have my yearly Virginia car inspection; it was nice of them to call me 20 minutes after they emailed me the very same information. Anyway, thanks to Sheehy Ford and their robo-call, the tears were short lived. Short lived, but cathartic all the same.
For a myriad of reasons, the last month or so has been kind of stressful for me. Between growing older, sickness, broken down bodies, hard miles pounded out in cold weather, flaring tempers, the stress of next month's marathon that I want to conquer so very badly and a major upcoming change in Craig's job, my stress level has been high. It's like a boulder on my chest sometimes. I try so hard to maintain control yet I know it's futile because clearly I don't have and never will have control. I want so very badly to have command of everything, to dictate the outcome of my life. Wouldn't that be sweet?
The idea of the unknown fills me with so much anxiety. Every so often, when aliens have overtaken my body for a brief moment, I kind of relish the thrill of the unknown, but then I come back down to earth and remember how much I actually hate the unknown. A thrill seeker, I am not.
The problem is: despite my vehement objections, life is jam packed with the unknowns. It's filled with what ifs and maybes. With sorrow and struggle. But it's also brimming with peace, joy and happiness. In this season, a season supposedly focused on peace and joy, that song......it just got to me.
I'm not sure anything was resolved by sobbing over my laptop. Our bodies won't be miraculously healed of all our aches, Craig's knees will never be pain free and his job is going to change regardless. I still don't know how I'll handle the marathon next month and the snow will come whether I want it to or not. Listening to songs about peace on earth and goodwill to men while crying doesn't fix things. Giving myself raccoon eyes won't ease my anxiety or make my legs stronger. It won't halt the snow or predict the future. Crying won't sharpen my brain so I stop misplacing things (like a bunch of bananas!), nor will it stop me from making mountains out of molehills.
I haven't anything wise to say to sum this up. In fact, I'm probably just as clueless as ever. I sat, I You-Tubed, I listened and I cried. What more could I say? However, despite the fact that I feel it necessary to reveal to you every facet of my life (dull or shiny), I do know without a doubt that even on the most anxiety filled days, when I feel the most frustrated and defeated, the bells, just like in the poem, will keep ringing.
"God is not dead; nor doth he sleep!
The wrong shall fail,
The right prevail,
With peace on earth, good will to men!"