The stresses caused by fierce winds can build up over time. A huge, thick, powerful, mesquite tree might survive monstrous hurricane force winds in successive storms. The tree may lose a few limbs but stand resolute against the forces of nature, only to topple later when wind is only half as strong.
People are like that. They can survive unthinkably strong emotional upheavals, only to succumb to far lesser turmoil. It’s as if the cumulative force of emotional stresses shatter the barriers that protect us. I believe that is what happens. When people survive repeated periods of emotional despair, the strength that shelters them weakens. Even a relatively moderate emotional storm can decimate their ability to cope with the stresses of life. The terms “mental breakdown” or “emotional breakdown” describe that sudden disintegration of emotional defenses. Life’s challenges simply become too much for psyches to handle; our tough protective shields weaken. We capitulate, as if surrendering in battle. We can’t find within ourselves the strength to fight anymore.
Too often, I think we witness those struggles but do not know what we can do to help people get through or around them. I think we’re embarrassed, for some reason, as if their battles carry a stigma. In my opinion, the stigma is found in the failure to intercede; the stigma is in giving one’s personal emotional comfort more weight than the emotional survival of a person in pain. But it happens all the time. Excuses abound: “It’s none of my business.” “He would not want me to interfere.” “If I say something, it will only make it worse for her.” “She needs her privacy to deal with it.”
I offer this implicit condemnation of the failure to intervene as if I am a practiced intervenor. I am not. I know the excuses because I have used them. It embarrasses me that, even though I recognize the likelihood of a need, I can use lame excuses and personal timidity to stay an arm’s length from the experience. Stronger personalities ignore the potential embarrassment; they barge ahead as if a life depends on it. And it well might. When I find myself saying “I should have…,” my self-esteem drops a notch. As well it should. People (like me) would do well to put aside their own feelings of embarrassment in such circumstances and take the risk. We might blunder and make some embarrassing mistakes, but we might sleep better, knowing we cared more for someone else than about our own fragility.
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The next several days should be far more tolerable, with respect to temperature, than the last few days. Highs in the low- to mid-80s will feel a bit like fall weather after stifling heat and humidity that could drown even the strongest swimmer. These few days will provide opportunities to work outdoors without too much fear of heat stroke. I will blow leaves, power wash a deck railing, and paint said railing (with the help of my IC). We’ll be cleaning up and fancying up her house to help her sell it. But, before I blow more leaves, I will spray myself with something to keep the chiggers at bay. Yesterday, I made the mistake of wading into leafy debris without protection; this morning, I have chigger bites that, so far, the Chigger-Rid or whatever I have on hand does not seem to help.
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My stomach has been “queasy” the last day or two and it seems to be on track for more of the same today. I thought, before, it was a minor flare of Crohn’s, but I’m not convinced that’s not it. Instead, I think it’s a mild stomach bug that will probably disappear soon; but it has been a minor annoyance thus far. Nothing even remotely debilitating, but definitely irritating. My appetite is fine (too fine, in fact, like it always is). Maybe that’s the issue; I enjoy food too much. I’ll slow down a bit and will eat only food that is good for me. And I’ll drink water with my coffee. And so forth. I could stand to lose 75 pounds; I’d still be someone overweight. Losing 75 pounds is an attractive target. But I don’t want to put the cart before the cart-dragging hyper-power engine. Patience, Grasshopper.
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A friend has invited us over to watch Hamilton on Tuesday evening. I’ve been wanting to watch it, so this will be a treat, but I’m not extremely good at sitting for three hours (the length of the experience). We’ll see. If I can’t sit still for three hours, I’ll have to try to doze off without waking everyone with my snoring. Seriously, I will manage to sit still for three hours, but I am amazed that anyone creating modern-day operas thinks three hours is a reasonable amount of time for such presentations. Two hours should be the legal limit.
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We have other obligations this week, including what promises to be great fun in Little Rock, where we’ll sample hot-pepper-infused beer and will, no doubt, eat some extraordinary food. We’re going with friends who have a special connection with the brewmeister and the restaurant I have adopted as my favorite.
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It’s off to church this morning, wearing masks. I’m not fond of the idea of church this morning; it just doesn’t appeal to me. I’d rather stay at home, where I could contentedly mull the vagaries of life. But I will go to church. I will wear a mask, but will growl at not having coffee; a decision was made that, in my opinion, should have involved me, to forego coffee and treats and require masks (the latter about which I agree). But I was not consulted. Regardless, wearing masks during the post-service period probably will impact the post-service conversations. In future, I will not attempt to engage in moderating conversations among people wearing masks; it would be a noisy and fruitless endeavor.
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It’s interesting to me. As I think about disagreeing with good friends about important issues, I never for a moment think my disagreement will have any impact on our friendship. But disagreements with people—people with whom I have no connection—tends to make me feel increasingly estranged from them. That makes no sense. I think I need to examine my thought processes. I need to determine why I can disagree with people close to me without damaging our relationships, yet my distance from people I do not know tends to grow greater when we disagree. There’s something in there that may explain how we can overcome angry disagreements with strangers. I just don’t know what it is.
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Some mornings, and this is one, I wake up and wonder “why?” I question why so many things are as they are. I wonder why I am the way I am and not the way I might want to be. The concept of church, as unappealing as it sometimes is to me, attaches to the questions and attempts answers. It’s the answers that I find both thought-provoking and laughable. Religion is a banal attempt, I sometimes think, to answer questions that have no answer. I think we should give up on trying to find out “why” and, instead, try to understand how we cope with what is. But that’s another deep thought for another deep time.
