Like Sand Through An Hourglass

This has been a week.  A week where nothing has gone quite as I planned.  A week where my brain felt foggy like it was having trouble playing catch up to the intricacies of a life. I wish I could say I handled each sudden change with a graceful smile, a patient nod, a breezy wave.  I most certainly did not, if you were wondering. I screamed at one point, cried at another, I may have even melted a bit. I turned into the four year old version of myself.  Actually, I think my inner child would have winced a time or two at such a display and I really can’t blame her for that. 

It all started when I forgot the meeting I had at 8AM on Monday morning.  I was already heading to work, but was at least five minutes away and another five minute walk once I parked. When I eventually looked at my phone, saw the message from my boss, I promptly preceded to give into the heart palpitations, the cold icky sweats that were already settling behind my neck, underneath my arms.  I took a few deep breaths when I finally stood outside of his office door and then glanced at my watch to determine how late I actually was. Twenty minutes if you were wondering. I rolled my shoulders back, knowing that I just would have to put my big girl panties on to get through this embarrassing moment and then I timidly knocked on his door.  I heard several voices inside, more than the two I was told would be in attendance.  When the door eventually swung open I was met with six faces.  I was a bit confused and then preceded to spend the rest of the hour trying to play catch up to what everyone was in the middle of talking about.  Needless to say I’m in charge of a club now.  I had really hoped that my club sponsoring days were behind me, but I guess that serves me right for being late to a meeting that had been in my calendar for over a week.  The sad thing was that I had not even thought about this meeting.  It hadn’t even entered my brain cells for a moment all weekend, all morning. 

Then, that same day, I received a text from my gynocologist’s office, telling me that I had a tele health appointment scheduled the next day.  What the heck, I thought.  I didn’t schedule such a thing.  I sent the doctor’s nurse a message, alerting them to what I was positive was their mistake.  The nurse who called me back a few hours later was very confused and understandably so.

“We don’t have a doctor by that name,” she said over the phone.

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you,” I replied, and a bit hastily at that. 

When the call ended it hit me.  I do have a doctor’s appointment the next day, but it wasn’t a telehealth visit, it wasn’t even a gynecologist visit.  It was to my dermatologist.  I had gotten the doctor completely wrong, the type of appointment completedly wrong, everything completely wrong.  Where has my brain gone?  I thought next.  Somewhere between Mexico and Arkansas apparently.  I wonder if I can pick it up in the Pacific Ocean next to the sea turtles and sargassum or maybe that's my own wishful thinking.

I was looking forward to the next day.  A fresh start I thought.  I would get home from work, take my 6 PM yoga class, and relax for the rest of the evening. 

“We have a concert tonight,” my husband said when he called on my way to work.

“What?” I whined, not even trying to keep the high pitch from my voice. I could feel the relaxing evening I had planned for come crashing down like falling dominos.

When did I become this person?  I asked myself. The one that is tied to her plans.  The one that hates to deviate from said plans.  The one that goes into a full blown panic attach when the plan is paused, interrupted, or completely changed.  I want to be breezy; I want to be pliable.  Have I always been like this or is this the new me?

I don’t like this change.  It causes a panic in myself that I have trouble recognizing and can’t control, and then there's sweating, always lots and lots of sweating.  Maybe one day I can breathe through the ever changing plans and recognize that life cannot be counted on for its seemlessness; its inability to maintain straight lines, because that’s not really what life is all about at the end of the day.  It’s filled with curves, deep grooves and tons of ptfalls and maybe the knowing of that will eventually help me to maintain a level of calm that I try to grasp, but feel that I'm constantly letting slip though my fingers like tiny, fine granules of sand.  Will I ever be able to hang on to those bits of sand? Will I one day win the battle against my own mind? I know that's where all of that anxiety is rooted.  But today is unfortunately not the day; this week is not the week. So, I will just have to continue to take those long cleansing breaths, continue to take my yoga classes when I can, as long as another concert does not disturb them, and try to encourage the demon within to fade and then hopefully disappear altogether.