Not a Mature Adult Right Now
My life is spinning out of control at the moment. My car is having bizarre problems. I drove it to the coffee shop (Biggby’s) Sunday and it was on the verge of overheating. I went inside, had some coffee, and then decided to perhaps put some water in the radiator. I pull the hood latch, heard a noise, and then discovered that the hood had not released. Was that the hood latch I just pulled? With a car threatening to overheat and the hood possibly flying upward randomly, I have it towed to Tuffy. I go to Tuffy the next day. The car is on the hoist. I ask the guy what’s going on. He explains that I did pull the hood latch—and that it snapped like a twig. He goes to my car, walks back to me, and hands me my snapped cable. He explains that I need a body shop to replace the cable so they can even look at the engine. As he removed the car from the hoist, I just stood in the parking lot (holding my hood latch cable), dumbfounded, and said to no one in particular, “Really? Are you kidding me?”
. So I drive it to Sundance Chevrolet because I know they have a body shop (and everything else under the sun for my Aveo), after being reassured that it shouldn’t overheat on such a short trip. It comes very close to overheating and it will be a couple days before they get the cable and fix the hood and then they can roll it down the hill to their mechanics who can then look at the engine.
I am pushing fifty years old and have never had this go wrong. I’ve owned at least a half dozen vehicles and had everything else imaginable go wrong, but this is a new one.
This is after I saw a new realtor. I never heard from the old one again, so I had to get a new one. My parents graciously lent me one of their cars for as long as I need. Now I have a list of things I can start working on for the house, some of which I have been working on just as common sense.
Later my best friend calls. I am emotionally overwhelmed and cannot talk to her. I am on the verge of tears. So I hang up on her a couple times. She calls back and leaves this horrendously condescending message about how childish I am acting and that if I want to “act like a grown-up” and talk it out with her, I can call her back.
Her expectation would be perfectly appropriate and reasonable under normal circumstances.
These are not normal circumstances. I am at the end of my rope and cannot operate under the normal rules of engagement. She had the option of either cutting me some slack (and wondering what on earth is wrong with Cindy) or leaving the world’s most condescending message and waiting for me to call her back. She chose Door Number Two. Are you kidding me?
I am stuck in the present moment. I cannot make plans because I don’t know when I will get my car back. This is in no way “The eternal now.” This is TRAUMA. I have been handed more than I can possibly handle and I am frozen in place, paralyzed, “stuck” by any definition.
What I need to do is to ground myself and not detach myself emotionally from what is going on just for the sake of expedience. Detaching myself emotionally only leaves me dealing with the emotional trauma at a later date to reintegrate the scattered pieces of myself.
The goal is to be functional, not gain the approval of others.
To me, Buddhism is about dealing with all of reality, not just the easy or convenient parts. Part of compassion starts with oneself and consciously dealing with whatever is going on. The Buddha is all about grounding. He found enlightenment sitting on the ground under the Bodhi Tree.
I am currently “over the edge.” I cannot act like a mature adult at the moment.
One of the things I decided years ago was that I was going to be honest with myself about as much as I possibly could be. People are dishonest because social protocol demands it. Screw social protocol. There is a time for maturity and a time for just dealing with reality, if one can even handle that. This is not the time for social niceties.