Mulch ado about nothing: When onions made Amy cry

Oh great...ANOTHER post about Amy sniveling. My time-line for crying during these last few weeks is impressive...beginning just four days into the self-quarantine when I finally got to speak to my first 4th grader. After a text conversation with the parent, my phone rang as requested. I picked it up, smiling and said, "Is this my most favorite person in the whole world?" And without missing a beat, Lyla's 9-year-old voice declared confidently, "Yes it is!" We chatted for five minutes and then hung up...and I burst into tears, my heart aching.

And that was only the beginning.

One of my strategies to thwart the all-consuming tsunami of emotions that come crashing down on me out of nowhere is to back-track my triggers.

Trigger #1 for today was my assigned reading for our church's on-line Good Friday service. I had volunteered earlier in the week but did not receive verification until 8 o'clock this morning for the noon service. While I may come off as an impulsive person more than capable of winging it, I actually like to be scheduled and prepared. I quickly printed off my assigned reading in size 26 font and began practicing. My nervousness about reading was, of course, compounded by nagging doubts about the reliability of the technology involved. I requested that we meet before noon to "walk-through" the service schedule. My pastor, who has WAY more faith in me than I deserve, graciously accommodated my insane, nit-picky plea. Naturally, my fears were over-blown and the on-line service was going along swimmingly...everyone present in their picture-in-picture box singing happily along..."It is well...{echo}...It is well..." when suddenly, it wasn't well. My screen went black. I shifted to my right where I had another device ready in the event of such an emergency but I hadn't been diligently moving the mouse so it had gone to sleep. Arrgghhh! After much scrambling and swearing, I made it back in time for my second reading...my hands and voice shaking from the strain of stress.

Triggers #2--5 occurred at the grocery store. I DO NOT go out. I am trying very hard to be part of the solution rather than the symptomatic spreading. Unfortunately, it's turning me a bit agoraphobic.

• Seeing all the store's precautionary measures first-hand rather than on the news made it very real very fast. Feeling people's fear...watching them draw away as I passed them with my cart...masks that made it impossible to read expressions...
• The paper products aisle was shocking. That we are this far into self-quarantine and even the single-ply, sandpaper Scott's has skedaddled off the shelves? 
• Brad and I proceeded to frozen foods to buy pearly onions for scalloped potatoes and ham next week. The frozen vegetables looked like a buy three/get five free panty blow-out at Victoria's Secret. "How can there be no pearly onions?" I asked baffled, peeking under a package of mashed cauliflower (yuck). I pushed back some brussel sprouts (ugh), "No one likes pearly onions," I stated. Brad offered to get a couple jars back in the canned vegetable aisle and that's when I first became consciously aware that I was headed for trouble. 
• At some point, Brad and I were separated and I found myself near the discounted items. Llama-shaped soap-making kits for $1.50! I grabbed two. Look! There are also flamingo-shaped ones! I grabbed two more. As fun prizes. For my classroom. I started to shake again. I didn't HAVE a classroom right now. 

Brad re-appeared and guided me to check-out. I placed the discount toys that this year's 4th graders may never have a chance of winning on the conveyor belt, looked at Brad and whispered, "I'm sorry...I've gotta go..." and ran out of the store. The van was locked...I glanced around through a glaze of tears and spotted a secret tunneled alleyway of mulch positioned to the side of the store's entryway. I crawled in there, buried my face in my knees and cried. When I could breath again...when it felt like my heart was no longer going to explode...when the surface of my skin didn't rival the heat on the surface of the sun...I texted Brad...I'm in the mulch. He didn't even question it. Simply loaded up the groceries into the van and then pulled up to the mulch to load up his wife. As we drove home, we carefully talked about my triggers. And how I'm not sleeping. And how I'm not putting any boundaries on work at all. And...and...and. 

I'm fine with not being fine right now. It's temporary. I'm getting used to riding this ridiculous roller-coaster of emotions and am beginning to recognize when I'm about to suddenly plunge downward...instead of screaming insanely, I'm learning to just grit my teeth and hang on until it's over. I no longer slam my eyes shut as we careen through the tunnel because, if I can fight to keep my eyes open, I can see a light at the other end. There is one good thing that I can say about this roller-coaster...I am grateful that I'm not riding it alone. Hands up, everyone! Here we go!