How a city girl, gone country grieves
(and raises cows)
You will quickly learn I have a morbid sense of humor. Notwithstanding the beef business, which elicits puns from tip to tail (intended), I grew up learning that if I don’t laugh I’ll cry. Emotional barely describes me, though I have mellowed over the years. With the help of menopause, the antithesis AND embodiment of all emotion, I can say I run a full spectrum at any given moment of any given day; and with a sprinkle of twisted humor to top the cake. I’m just a barrel of fun, folks!
That being said, I am also a doer. The kaleidoscope projection of my life experiences proves this. The funny thing is that I didn’t realize it until recently. In fact, recently, while I was collecting my ideas for how to proceed in this saga of Me Etc. it dawned on me like a star explosion: this explains my diverse experiences!
Because I’m a doer doesn’t necessarily mean I’m a thinker. I know I’m not alone when I say I charge forth into (God only knows) a project, cause, issue and find myself hip deep in a drama-scape left unchecked; THEN I think about the consequences and realize that might not have been the best move. Some of my more profound experiences yet to be shared also contribute to my morbid sense of humor and over the years they have allowed me to accept that I’m a doer not a thinker. All of this is coming to fruition in the dawn of my mid-life experience.
So now I spend the next (God only knows) how many years untangling the messes I have made, or at least coming to terms with them. This involves exercising forgiveness (for myself included if not exclusively), mercy, and re-evaluating my "doer not thinker" to maybe at least a "doer with a thought" training. The old saying "you can’t teach an old dog new tricks" comes to mind here. Beyond that I’m guessing that I’m simply wired this way. If that’s the case, maybe the world just needs a few crossed wires.
This week has been particularly challenging. I think February’s trick (while January was self-extension into what seemed like 10 weeks) is that there are no weekends. Friday was all of a sudden Monday with no real break in the schedule, and I’m scratching my head on Monday wondering if it was still Friday! This past Monday also brought a whole host of new challenges all by itself, most of which were completely unexpected.
In my menopausal, slightly deranged state of chaotic emotions, I tried very hard to keep my head up and roll with it, but they just literally never stopped coming. I’ll spare you all the gory details; the day ended with having to complete a difficult chore (which I did expect) and I bedded down with a somewhat exhausted heave. At least I think it was Monday. Friday was three days long…
Having a morbid sense of humor, I can look back over that day and determine where I didn’t laugh when I should have (even though it wasn’t necessarily funny). Laughter is my key to survival in this wild, wicked, whirlwind world. It relieves stress and lets me know that I’m such a small part of greater things. Being able to chuckle about the "un-chuckle-able" allows me to refocus.
I don’t know about you, but these consistent rainy murky days make life somewhat heavier and darker than it already is. Laughter, even it’s a little morbid, at least eases the tension and sheds a little light into my days. Trust me; I know on the whole there is really nothing funny about a lot of life’s challenges, trials and tragedies. For me, though, it’s a matter of survival in some of my darkest hours. God in His infinite wisdom saw fit to allow me to see things in this manner, to realize that this is JUST THE FLESH, and my spirit is renewed knowing that I am already in a better place, even if my flesh doesn’t think or feel it.
All that being said, this is my "warning shot." Many of my future posts, while I am naturally an encourager, will reveal some of life’s most grievous experiences. Had I not developed this morose humor, I can honestly say I would not be who I have become. I learned a long time ago not to take myself too seriously; to laugh at myself regardless the pain, anguish and turmoil. It sounds completely twisted and surreal, but the truth is if I don’t laugh out loud even when it’s really not humorous, I’d cry. And I already know that God did not make enough tears for me to do that.
My prayer is that you do find encouragement in whatever I share. I am a firm believer that I was meant to survive my pain to share it with others. I believe that’s true for all of us. When we shift the focus off ourselves into service of others, oftentimes the pain dissipates or becomes less. This is especially true when we realize there are those with far more devastating experiences than our own.
To recapitulate (I love that word!); I’m a doer, not a thinker, with a morbid sense of humor and a past filled with the experiences that reflect this. I am also not the sum of my experiences. I am a human being created specifically for this time and with a passion and purpose not meant for any other human being.
This is my time, this is my story and this is my encouragement. Until we "meat" again…. (pun intended).