Very Sour Lemonade

Today, I woke up early. (Like most days when I have to.) But this time I felt a small sense of pride in myself because I am NOT a morning person especially when the onset of cramps and PMS made it that much harder to even THINK about getting out of bed. BUT! I did it and I actually ate a good breakfast and left the house early enough to take care of an errand and hit the Starbucks drive-thru before work.

I got my hot chocolate with a shot of espresso and headed to the bank to make a transfer. My temperamental car had been flashing the oil light at me for a couple of weeks but I knew it wasn’t reading right because it does this even after I put fresh oil in. Knowing it wasn’t accurate, I kept driving. But a few miles down the road I thought maybe it really was time to put more oil in. So, being only a few miles from both the bank and work, I figured I’d just take care of it after my shift. I had everything I needed there in the back seat. Upon finishing up at the bank and attempting to pull onto the highway, my car shut off and wouldn’t crank. Hooray. And to make matters worse, two cars pulled up behind me wanting to exit the bank and there wasn’t a smidgen of room for them to go around me. Yay, Pen Air for having a stupid divider in the parking lot entrance.

Nothing would work. Not the locks. Not the windows. Nothing. I got out of my car and frantically ran to the couple behind me sitting so patiently and told them what happened. The husband was incredibly sympathetic and helped push my car into the grass. I told him my dad could take care of the rest and I would be fine. Lord, bless that man. And bless my daddy. (who had to stop what he was doing at work and drive from Navarre beach to come figure out that the battery had died because after putting oil in her, poor KATY still wouldn’t crank.)

Long story short, I got to work an hour late, the car battery might have a bad connection or might need to be replaced altogether, my body was feeling extremely run down, during all of the commotion, one of my nails broke off so short it was giving me pain (I could care less about the nail. But a nail too short hurts no matter who you are,) and the fact that ONE MORE THING had gone wrong with my car made me feel depressed and utterly unmotivated. But those feelings came to me differently than they have in the past. The best way I can describe them is by saying I felt like white noise. Ya know the horrendous, static-y, monochromatic fuzz that makes your ears bleed when a tv signal has been lost or a broadcast has been interrupted? Okay, yeah. That. Only, I didn’t feel loud or obnoxious.

Have you ever looked closely at your tv screen when that happens? Sometimes you can see faint, shadow-like images of the show that can’t get through. When I was a kid, I used to think those images were of the people at the dull, spacious, everything-from-the-walls-to-the-jumpsuits-is-white-like-the-scene-in-Willy-Wonka tv station scrambling to put the VHS tape back in the huge, white broadcasting machine with no screens or buttons because that was how tv was made…

Well, I walked around work feeling like a dark, indiscernible figure with no depth or purpose. Please, don’t mistake this for “dead inside” or suicidal. (Not making fun of or taking those things lightly. That’s just not what I mean here.) I clutched my delicious hot chocolate, thankful for a small fix. But all the Starbucks in the world couldn’t change my mood. I was tired. Tired of everything happening at the worst possible times. Like this one, for instance, happening the same week that I only work three days making my paycheck a very crummy sum when it comes in. And on the same day I’m told the application I filled out for the job I want hasn’t been reviewed yet. I didn’t want to feel angry, sad, hopeless, or stressed. I didn’t even want to feel positive and joyful and secure. I wanted to be comatose and that’s what I did. I took my lemons that life so kindly threw at me and squeezed out all the juice without bothering to pick out the seeds. I didn’t add any water because usually when I make “My Life’s Lemonade” the tears I’ve sobbed provide enough water. This time I had no tears.  No tears, no water. And DEFINITELY no sugar.

It’s very hard sometimes to “let go and let God” and “trust Him. He will provide!” But that wasn’t my issue today. I wasn’t worried that I’d never get my car fixed or yadda yadda.That God would never make a way for me. I knew He would. I simply didn’t want to remain positive nor negative. I wanted to care not even a bit about what was going on. I was just DONE. So no, thank you. Don’t waste your “good vibes” on my situation. No need to send them. I don’t need a hug and an “it will be okay!” Don’t lift me up. I’m good.

…or not good.

Something.

I don’t know.

I’m just not. Yeah, that’s it. I’m just not. Like white noise. Something is there. It’s not a full picture of clarity, but it’s not pitch black nothingness either.

It’s okay to feel that for a moment. Don’t worry, I’ll be better tomorrow. But for today, I am static.

With a glass of very sour lemonade.

And maybe a swirly straw. ❤

(And no hot chocolate because, let’s face it. I chugged that sucker in the first five minutes of being at work.)

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