Monday, January 5, 2015

I need a vacation from my problems

Some of the best movies in the world have Bill Murray in them.

"What about Bob?" is one of the most fantastic movies on earth. If you haven't seen it, do.

Anyway, the holidays this year did the little Satan dance they do every year, and I came away feeling like I'd just been run over by a train with spiked wheels.

My anxiety levels were through the roof, and New Year's Day I turned to Jeremy as the last house guest left and said, "I need a vacation...after this vacation...."

And, yes, I know (I KNOW) that most of the stress was self-induced. I know this (I KNOW THIS) about myself, and yet I can't seem to stop myself.

My solution to all of my stress woes was "We need to move. Tomorrow, if possible."

You see, if we move, then we'll be in a whole new place, with a bunch of new neighbors, and a whole new ward, and a whole new opportunity to recreate our lives.

Sounds magical, doesn't it?

It makes me a little teary and starry-eyed when I think about it too long.

But, then that crappy little voice in the back of my heard starts chirping, "Things won't change just because you change where you are, chirp chirp chirrppy chiirrrpp!"

And I know that stupid little bird is right.

I mean, you can't run from yourself.

You can run from your problems, but they always come back to haunt you later.

Like what happened yesterday.

I hid in a closet at church.

And my problem found me.

I suppose I better back-track a little.


A few weeks ago in Relief Society, I raised my hand to answer a question, and was unceremoniously shut down.

I sat for an uncomfortable 30 seconds afterward.

Slowly closed my notebook.

Placed it quietly in my purse.

Looked at the clock like, "Oh my! Look at the time!"

And slunk out of the room.

I found Jeremy in a pile of men in gym, and motioned wildly for him to come with me, and as we walked down the hallway, he asked intently what was wrong, and all I could manage was a blubbering, ugly-crying, "I'll t-t-t-elll you at h-h-h-ooommmee..."

We gathered our children, and exited the building a whole 5 minutes before church ended (I'm a rebel).

Jeremy, being the dashing sort, tried to fix this problem by discretely texting the teacher's husband while I sat in a comatose state in the kitchen.

When the doorbell rang seconds later, my mind was dragged back to the present, and I looked up at Jeremy and asked, "Is that our home teacher?"

Jeremy didn't look me in the eye, and I felt slightly confused.

Until I heard the squeals of joy erupting from our children.

"Yay! What's her name again???"

Jeremy headed out to the living room.

I hesitated about 1 second and did the mature thing.

I hid in my car.

Long story short, I hid, she waited, Jeremy searched, she went home, home teacher showed up (he's search and rescue, FYI), Jeremy panicked, home teacher walked around the house, and drove around the neighborhood looking for a pregnant, sobbing, bear-foot woman (That's the description Jeremy gave him).

And I had a pseudo-nap in the back of the suburban.


So, before she left, she asked Jeremy to have me call her.


I determined to never leave the house again just in case I ran into her somewhere outside. Anywhere outside.

Well, you can only do that for so long.

I mean, I do like church, after all.

We arrived in church late enough that we sat all the way in the back, and I spent a good portion of the meeting making sure she wasn't there. I went all ostrich-y: If I can't see her, she must not exist.

Jeremy had decided that morning that the stairs leading down the parking lot needed to be shoveled, and after sacrament he went outside to make sure no other pregnant ladies slipped in the snow. Or anybody else for that matter. I followed him out there and looked at the ice slick that remained. "Is there any salt in the church?" I asked. Jeremy shrugged, and we headed indoors to look for some.

(Problems follow you, even when your in church. Remember that. There is no free pass when you walk through the doors.)

We walked through the glass doors, and as we came in, she came out of the chapel. My first thought was to run out the glass doors, and make a loop around the building, but I'm not that fast, and I probably would have fallen down the stairs, so I waddled as fast as I could behind Jeremy into the janitor's closet.

Door closed.

We were safe.

For about 3 seconds.

She found me. I guess I wasn't as stealthy as I thought.

She knocked politely on the closet door, though, beforehand, and I felt obligated to open the door, and said, awkwardly, "We're looking for salt."



Awkward pause.

"You mean this salt?" she asked, pointing the giant barrel of the stuff right next to the door.


Jeremy then made himself busy while I had to maintain eye contact. He shot me a wild-eyed, panicky look at one point, and I tried to not do a sea anemone impersonation.

25-minutes later, the awkward still hadn't dissipated, and Jeremy had quietly disappeared (traitor). I made a note to myself that I should mop up the sweat that had accumulated in the 3-foot radius around me after the conversation ended, but for some reason, we ended up migrating down the hallway, and I had to leave it behind.

 I still feel awkward.

Like I'm a partially bloomed anemone, and the rest of the tentacles are stuck inside all kinked and knotted.

But at least she doesn't hate me.

But it's still weird.

And I'm sure she's going to forever remember what a psycho I am.

Because I felt the need to tell her I hid in my car.

And that I didn't trust the candy apple she brought as a peace offering.

And that I thought she was trying to poison me and my unborn baby with Listeria.


Time to move. 


Katscratchme said...

Though, I'm sure some Hyperbolating was in effect in your retelling... Yes, you are a psychotic mess. :D
I am too.

Anonymous said...

Well...actually...that was pretty much how it happened. I just left out 90% of the dialog. O_o

Bethany said...

We've had a rough time in the ward/neighborhood/school that we've lived in for the past almost 3 years. Just one example, the bishop's wife was my son's first grade teacher and she wasn't .... awesome. Somehow my feeling that way led to them completely ignoring us at all costs. You know, like when your family is sitting at a table at the Halloween party and the bishop and his wife are very intentionally visiting every table in the room and walk past your table without even a nod. Yeah, things are a mess. And now we're moving, not because of that, but it turns out it is good timing. New everything sounds very good to me. There are empty lots near us. Wanna come by us? ;)

Anonymous said...

Only if you don't mind weird neighbors! :-D

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