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Manufactured Drama...Anyway

How do I celebrate my capacity for deep feeling…especially when it lands me into imagined dumpster fires of imposition, injustice, fear?

The facts of “my day” are these…

  • At least two months ago, our condo mailbox fell over due to rust or was knocked over by an errant car, backing up into it.

  • Friday, we got a new mailbox, but no instructions, nor, as it turns out, any keys with which to open a mailbox, if we even knew which box would be ‘ours.’

  • Days pass, no mail.

  • Emails of inquiry go out.

  • We wait.

  • I then discover this new free service from the Post Office–digital copies of your mail into your Inbox! What a great interim strategy, I think.

  • The Association President then arrives on our doorstep with our box-number and key.

  • We receive our weekend’s mail yesterday. All is well, but I forget about the digital service.

This morning, I receive a digital copy of all the mail that is coming today.

  • My heart sinks and my belly tightens, seeing a piece addressed to “Brian and Lisa.”

  • It’s from a woman who has faced overwhelming trauma and dysfunction in her family, projecting some of that onto Brian and me, eventually just onto me. She’s wounded/ing and can be mean.

My day now becomes soaked in dread: I’m about to get smacked. By a church member. Whom I cannot defend or retaliate against in any fashion because she’s a church member.

  • It takes over my morning, though I’m actively practicing ego-relaxation, relinquishment, centering in what I value.

  • I spin more and more…feeling the injustice I feel, and the fear…

  • Finally I text Brian: I don’t want to feel alone in whatever outrage is going to pour onto me next. Which would then put him in between his wife and a parishioner, a position both of us work hard to avoid but which is inevitable, from time to time.

  • [Just to be clear: I’ve actually done nothing to merit this woman’s anger. She would disagree, which is convenient for the one who projects, less so for the one who is projected upon].

  • Brian texts back with a cue-word for us: para. It’s Greek for “side by side,” picked up in grad school way back when.

  • I share the heaviness I feel with a spirit friend I get to visit today. We laugh together, recognizing my capacity to imagine worst-case scenarios.

  • I still spin with feelings of powerlessness, inability to avoid getting socially-political smacked.

  • I go to my home gym for a CrossFit workout, to be with people who move, laugh, tease.

  • Afterward, I get out to my car seeing a text from Brian.

It’s a Christmas card.

Oh for f*ck’s sake…

My whole body relaxes and I laugh aloud. I did my very best to NOT have this manufactured-drama day. Yet still I failed. Classic Lisa, whom I love to laugh at and with…who now gets to sleep the sleep of the relieved.

I love that I feel deeply…except on days like this.

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