My Self-Destructive Self

Almost every morning I wake up with a heaviness, a judgement of myself, and that judgement says, "Debbie, you failed again." It didn't used to be like this. I've never been a morning person and probably never will be. You people who jump out of bed, ready to meet the day the second your eyes open, you are, well, foreign to me. I start slow and on the days I don't work, I start late. But this feeling that I am waking up with has nothing to do with my disdain for mornings and everything to do with how I'm feeling about myself.

This is not about losing sight of who I am in Christ. I know He holds my life in His hands. I know He has plans for me. I know He loves me just the way I am. I know He has a purpose for my life. Those are important truths and I cling to them. But the simple fact is that, since Paul left, I have developed, enjoyed, and perfected some pretty bad habits. And while I'd like to blame this trend on Paul, I cannot. (Well, maybe just a little bit!) I'm responsible and no one else. Damn! In and of themselves, these bad habits might not be considered "self-destructive". But I am classifying them as such because I have indulged this lack of discipline long enough. I am tired of waking up disappointed in myself. For the sake of transparency, here's my list of things I do that make me dislike myself...

I stay up way too late.
I eat way too much (especially later in the evening).
I eat in bed. 
I waste far too much time on the computer.
I like to drink wine with every dinner.

I avoid God.

This list is not exhaustive but it's a good start. I think if I could get a handle on any of this stuff, my outlook on life would be better. Let me examine these a little. I've always been a night owl so the staying up late business has been a struggle under the best of circumstances. At 60, however, I'm just too old for that kind of thing. I'm exhausted every morning as I drag myself off to work. No fun! Eating and drinking? I don't drink too much at a time. It's not that at all. But wine every night? That's just empty calories. What happened to just having water with dinner? Speaking of dinner, what happened to it? Most nights I grab whatever assortment of things I find that require absolutely no preparation, cart them off to my bedroom, and sit in bed with my T.V. and computer.  My mattress has a well defined butt print in it from me sitting there so much. I then browse Pinterest and Facebook for hours, usually eating the whole time.

I know I've left one item out so far. I'll get to that in a minute. As I look at the paragraph above I am thinking, "No sweat! This is an easy fix. Just come home from work, fix an actual dinner that contains a vegetable, stop eating after dinner, do something constructive in the evening, relax for a short time and go to bed by 11:00." Done! The problem is that my mind and body have to be retrained. I've been doing this for too long. I come home with good intentions that are immediately derailed by bad habits that demand attention. And because I have allowed my circumstances to rob me of daily joy, I give in to those bad habits because I just don't care. I say I don't care but the fact that I wake up in the morning kicking myself says otherwise. And, I've realized that overindulgence sucks the enjoyment out of simple pleasures. A good meal and a nice glass of wine? Nothing special anymore. When you eat and drink constantly, it loses appeal and is not satisfying. Staying up late? No fun there, nothing to look forward to. Not when you do it all the time. Zoning out on the computer? No reward anymore. It's run-of-the-mill, boring. Doing whatever I liked, whenever I wanted, didn't free me. It has enslaved me. I am sick of it.

Now...the bigger problem...avoiding God. There are times when I feel like He and I are on the same page. I turn to Him instantly, pray a lot, ponder and think about Him. But much too often, I avoid Him. I hit a wall where I am experiencing something that is painful. (Painful stuff has been a bit frequent these last few years.) But instead of turning that pain over to Him, I avoid it completely. I don't pray about it. I don't talk to Him, I don't tell Him about it. Of course, He knows already and I know that. But I deprive myself of the inexpressible relief of intentionally sharing it with Him. I keep the burden to myself. Sometimes, I deny the pain so successfully that I forget about it until all of a sudden, without warning, anger rears its ugly head at the most surprising times. It's a mystery to me why I do this over and over again. It's almost as if I am afraid that life will hurt more if I verbalize it to God. Or maybe I'm afraid that He'll ask me to give it to Him and somehow I think that trivializes what I'm going through. Whatever my reasons, I need to get over it. He wants to carry my burdens. He hurts with me, for me, because of me. Unbelievable!!

"Oh, what peace we often forfeit, oh, what needless pain we bear,
All because we do not carry everything to God in prayer."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NRb5blYUQpc

I have no answers for myself at this point. This is not a New Year's Resolutions sort of thing. But for me, just writing something down helps to clarify my thoughts and allows God to give me some direction. I've got to break this crazy cycle. Maybe today.

"I'm sorry. Peanuts are for First-Class only!"

I am not a good traveler. I'm going to tell you that right from the start. Also, I rarely fly and I don't like flying. It's a control thing, I'm sure. I mean, really! Being locked up in a little tube with a bunch of strangers? And a sign that tells you when you can get up to go to the bathroom in a room not much bigger than a See's Candy box? How is that pleasant? Anyway, back to my story...

I have some very close friends that live in Annapolis. That's in Maryland, you know, and it is about as far away from Paso Robles as you can get and still be in the United States. I've known Carole Sue since before I had kids and we've been through a lot together. It had been more than a year since I had seen her when Carole Sue graciously offered to use their air miles to fly me back for a visit. In the 18 years they've lived in Annapolis, I've never gone. She always came to me. My office was closing for a week's vacation so I had no excuses. I was going to have to get on a plane.

In preparation for the trip I began to moan and groan, fret, plan, and ask everyone I knew to pray for me. Finally, I began to pray for myself and God did give me a peace about the trip. I knew that one way or another, He was going to get me there. Now let me clarify one thing. I'm not actually afraid of the flying itself or even crashing. I figured if I fell from the sky in that little tube I'd be seeing Jesus real quick and it'd all be good. It's the process surrounding getting from one place to another - the details - that I'm not fond of. Well, that and the fact that I have to place myself at the mercy of someone else who probably just wants to get home and go to bed. You know, that whole control issue again.

I left last Thursday. I had driven to Santa Barbara the night before and stayed with another dear friend, Marilyn. She took me to the airport Thursday morning and was keeping my car for the week. My flight went from Santa Barbara to LAX, from LAX to Chicago, and from Chicago to Baltimore where my friends were meeting me. O.K. So here's how the trip went...

Santa Barbara airport is beautiful and so easy to find your way around in.  I met a very nice lady who is a local artist and we talked for a bit before boarding. That was calming and I was grateful that God had put her in my path. I knew how to put all my stuff into the little basket so that they could determine that I was not a terrorist. Then I approached the little glass room where they scan you. I was kind of getting excited so I sort of danced into the room and immediately out the other side. "Uh, excuse me, but you need to stand in there for a minute. Put your feet on the footprints and hold your arms up." Oh. Well, I see. I had completely short-circuited their process and I felt a little silly but whatever. I complied and all was well except that my large earrings, of which I am particularly fond, lit up the little machine and had to be double checked for explosives. No worries, I was cleared and off I went. The flight to LAX was uneventful although it seemed that planes had gotten smaller than I remembered. I could barely cross my legs in those toddler-sized seats. I'm not sure how my over-6-feet tall sons-in-law fit. I landed in L.A. and thankfully, Carole Sue had alerted me that I would need to take some sort of bus to another area. I asked this young gentleman behind a counter if he could direct me and he actually walked me all the way over to the shuttle. That was so nice of him. I knew God had put him there for me, just like the lady in Santa Barbara and, again, I was grateful. I was able to find my gate by myself and before I knew it, I was on my way to Chicago.

Let's fast-forward a few hours. I had a window seat with two other women in my row. I was doing well but I eventually began to notice the time and realized that we should have landed in Chicago earlier. I didn't have a very long lay-over so I was a little concerned about making my connection. But there hadn't been any announcements so I just figured everything was fine. I don't wear a watch so I was looking at the time on my Nook and I really had no idea what time zone I was in so I thought maybe I was imagining being in the sky a bit too long. Eventually, the pilot came on over the loudspeaker and said that we had been circling the Chicago airport for quite some time but now the airport was closed due to bad weather and we were being diverted to Rockford. I didn't even know what state that was in because I am no good with geography. I still wasn't alarmed. The flight attendant told us all not to worry. She said that if we couldn't land, planes weren't leaving either so our connecting flights would be there waiting for us. I am not a seasoned traveler so I took her at her word. I know better now. I should probably interject here that when I travel, I tend not to eat or drink. However, I was really glad I had my bag of goldfish crackers with me.

Three hours later, we were still on the ground in Rockford (which, by the way, is in Illinois), I still thought I would get to Baltimore that night, I was still smiling, and we were still in the plane. They wouldn't let us off! And it was about 90 degrees inside that dreadful little tube. The flight attendant began handing out a single, stale granola bar to each passenger. She said it was from their "emergency rations". A lady in front of me asked if she could have peanuts instead and the flight attendant said, "No. I'm sorry. Peanuts are for First-Class only." Really? I called Norm and Carole Sue and let them know that I was delayed. I didn't want them sitting at the Baltimore airport for hours. It was about 11 p.m. their time by now. I knew this was a test. God was asking me how much I really trusted Him. Bring it on! However, my fellow travelers didn't have the peace of the Lord and they were getting a bit rowdy. Several men seemed ready to storm the cabin. Finally, the flight attendant came out and said that, by law, they couldn't keep us on the plane for more than three hours. She said we could get off the plane but if we did, we couldn't get back on. Great. That wouldn't do me any good. One lady in my row bailed right then. She had a friend who was willing to drive from Chicago (apparently only an hour away by car) to pick her up and she figured her chances of getting home sometime that night were better that way. The rest of us got in line for the mini-bathroom and then settled in to wait some more. Norm told me later that he knew I wasn't making it to Baltimore that night but he couldn't crush my hopes so he didn't mention it. I was dreaming of Carole Sue's homemade soup that she had told me was waiting for me. By now, I hadn't eaten much for the last 24 hours because I had barely eaten the day before I left. That soup was going to be so good! Then I got a text from her that said she was putting the soup back in the refrigerator. That was a low point!

Finally, we took off again for Chicago but by then, everyone on the plane was so worn out that we couldn't even celebrate. Our flight attendant told us that in all her 25 years of flying, this was only the 2nd time she had experienced something like this. I didn't want to let on to my fellow suffering travelers but I was pretty certain that all this was on my account so God could teach me about trust and prayer. I was sorry they had to suffer along with me but you know, I am just that important to God. It was only about a 10 minute flight to Chicago. I walked into the airport to find hundreds of people stranded and right after we landed they closed the airport again. Nothing was getting out that night. I did manage to find a telephone labeled "re-booking information" and when I picked up the phone I was told that I had been automatically re-booked onto a flight leaving Chicago at 6 a.m. I spent the night on the floor of the airport with tons of other people and watched the pouring rain and lightening out the windows. At one point, I was issued a cot resembling something the military might use, along with a paper-thin blanket with a big spot on it. There was one area where it was just wall-to-wall cots and I was not about to try to sleep with hundreds of other strangers.  I set my cot up right in front of the gate that I was supposed to be departing from in a few hours. Every time I moved on the cot it sounded like 25 people farting long and hard. I realized that sleep was unrealistic so I abandoned the cot. I wandered around for a while though most everything in the airport was closed since it was about one in the morning. I found one little shop open where I paid $5 for a Snickers bar and a bottle of water. My departure gate was changed so I went to the new gate and spent the next four hours alternating between a seat and the floor. I am way too old for this!

At 5 a.m. I had to get in line to get my ticket changed and get a new boarding pass. So many people had been stranded overnight that tempers were short but those that were working the counters were so nice and patient. I was impressed. I got on a puddle-jumper to Baltimore and passed out immediately. When we landed, I staggered out of the plane, found my baggage, and finally, found Norm and Carole Sue. It's ironic, don't you think? If you know me, you know how I hate to travel usually. I just had to laugh! Only God! So in spite of all the traveling setbacks, I had a wonderful trip and have learned a few things about trusting God. I hope He doesn't test me again any time soon!

P.S.:  On the flight home I went from Baltimore to Dallas to LAX to Santa Barbara. In Dallas, my flight left over an hour late because we had to taxi back to the gate after almost taking off because a passenger had gotten sick and needed to be let off the plane. When we landed in L.A., I had to run for the shuttle and then run for my gate and just barely got on the plane in time. I wasn't even surprised!