Probably Not the End of the World

Day 72 (April 16, 2019)

Hi Jesus,

            So, the plan last night was for Dane to get off work at 6pm; I would put on my bridesmaid dress so he could measure the amount of fabric that needed to be hemmed at the bottom; and then we would take it into the dry cleaners—which is located around the corner, and which closes at 8pm—so they could alter the dress per our specifications. I thought two hours would be plenty of time, and we would be able to make sure all the measurements were correct without crazy time pressure. The problem was that Dane was not able to get off work on time. (It was, of course, not his fault in any way, and I was not upset with him. I am just stating the order of events, Lord.) We lost over an hour of time and that put me in a terrible mental state. (You know I do not handle being rushed very well.)

            Dane kindly tried to measure out the different lengths of fabric we would need removed from the dress—it seemed like we needed the inner layer taken up two inches and the outer layer taken up 3 inches—but I was starting to worry we were not measuring correctly. By this time, it was already 7:20pm, and the cleaners closed in 40 minutes. My mind started spiraling out of control. In my head, I kept thinking if the measurements were all wrong, then the dry cleaner’s staff should measure me instead. But then, I thought how rude it would be to walk in so late and make such a request right before closing time. I was bewildered on what to do and, if all of that wasn’t enough, I was keenly aware time was ticking away from me. Unfortunately, instead of figuring out my next step, my OCD took all the factors, working against me, and strangled them all into one singular trigger which then proceeded to render me non-functional. (I completely shut down, Lord.) I sat on the edge of the bed completely silent and numb.

            The only thing I seemed capable of doing was the one thing I hated most . . . pulling. My hand rubbed my eyebrow repeatedly until a few hairs came loose. This made things much, much, worse. Dane took notice right away and tried to get me to talk to him, but I couldn’t work out a single thing in that moment. (It is so frustrating, Lord. Why do I let small things frazzle me so? It wasn’t like I had to get to the dry cleaners that night, or the world was going to end. Ugh.) Dane sat next to me and asked me to put my hands in his. At first, I lashed out at his offer of restrictive kindness by telling him that the pulling would not matter, but he responded with these words: “In 15 minutes it would matter.” He was right, of course. (He knew how hard I had worked to get to this point, Lord.) So, against the persuasive whispers of my OCD, I put my hands in his, and he wrapped his fingers lovingly and protectively around mine as I worked out all the little things that had overwhelmed my mind. By the end, it was well past 8pm, and the dress would have to be taken to the dry cleaners the next day. (Still plenty of time to get it altered before my brother-in-law and future sister-in-law’s wedding.)

            Fast forward to today.

            As Dane and I walked down the sidewalk, on our way to the dry cleaners, I admitted to Dane that I was quite scared of going into the dry cleaners. The interior space was unfamiliar to me, and I was worried there would be cleaning solutions everywhere. (Something that is a sure-fire trigger for my OCD.) But, most of all, I was scared that when they measured me, I would have to go in a back room of some sort where he would not be permitted to follow me—a space where my OCD could nefariously attack me while my support was waylaid. Dane encouraged me to not build all these things up in my mind because there were just too many unknowns, and the things I deemed scary might not even come to fruition. (I’m like, me? I would never let anything build into crazy, unrealistic scenarios within my brain. That is just not me, Lord.) Haha, okay I told him I would try my best.

            Lord, I should just get a sign made for Dane with the words “You are Right” written on it. (Well, right about anxiety related matters anyway. As the lady of the house, I do believe I am still entitled to being right the other 90% of the time haha.) So, being at the dry cleaners turned out to be way less scary than I had imagined it to be. The dressing room was right at the front of the store—right across from where Dane was positioned—and it only had a couple of mirrors and a stool to stand on for when they took all the measurements. (Yes, they took the measurements, so we will know it is done correctly. Peace of mind for all involved. Plus, did I mention the woman who took my measurements was sooo nice.) It helped that Dane could see me as I came in and out of the dressing room because he was able to affirm my own conclusions that I had not messed with anything within the store. All went so smoothly—both measurement wise and mental wise—that it reinforced something I need to continue to work on: I need to not let small things overwhelm, or debilitate, me because usually things are less scary than what I build them up to be. And when things go a little haywire, it usually isn’t the end of the world. There is room to always improve. Right, Lord? Love you, tons!

Always,

Your Daughter Kaitlan

P.S. Lord, can you please help those of us who get frazzled by the small things not working out (I am not talking about the BIG stuff) ask ourselves a few questions like: 1) Is it the end of the world if I do not get this thing done today/tonight? 2) Can it be put aside for another time in which I can come back to it with a level head? 3) Are there things troubling me—things that are causing me to pull—that I can work out with someone I trust before tackling my project? 4) Do I need to remember that things are probably not as scary as I think and, no matter what, God’s got my back?

Now, these are not cure all questions for an anxious mind, Lord. (And, again, we all know I am no licensed therapist, and my words should never replace the guidance of someone’s doctor or other professional healthcare provider.) They are just questions, if asked, that I believe might help me get through an anxious moment and that might help someone else get through their anxious moment as well. Please let them help someone, Lord. But, more than that, let us remember you are our greatest help, and we can come to you with any questions, during an anxious moment, and you will help us figure things out. Thank you.

Thank you for reading! If you are new, this is a chronological blog series. It is best read in order. CLICK HERE for the intro.