Therapy

Many times I've stumbled across the phrase, "retail therapy." I guess there could be a "food therapy" as well, depending upon your mood. For me, today ... I needed some therapy. Big time.

I'm too "Dutch" for retail therapy, although trust me when I say that personal denial can be a huge one for me. I do love to shop ... I just don't like spending money.

And yes, there are rare occasions where I say "heck with it, I'm going to chow down on a handful of M&M's" ... but I usually end up regretting it. It's just not worth it. And besides, I went bathing suit shopping yesterday ... I don't think I need to say any more about that. I'm struggling between denying myself M&M's and saying "heck with it" because I'm just too far gone ...

But today I needed therapy. It's been a rough week. A rough couple of weeks. It wasn't any one thing in particular -- although Don's trip to San Francisco threw a hefty monkey wrench into our daily routine, from which we're still trying to reorient and recover. I think that's my problem, though -- I am constantly reorienting and recovering. And for a girl who doesn't adjust well -- or quickly -- to change, this constant flux keeps me swirling. And I'm worn out.

I wanted to sign up for a yoga class ... but I ended up bailing because of the too-many instances where Don had to work late, of course on my yoga night and no other. I plan on doing something in particular on a given morning, only to find out that something shifted and I can't. You get the idea. One after another, ebbing and flowing, ever-changing. I can't keep up.

Our weather hasn't been helping. I think it has rained for a week straight. We're stuck indoors, claustrophobic, sun-deprived. Being Friday, it all caught up to me. I cried quite a bit in the car this morning, despite my best efforts to keep it all together. I vented to the steering wheel. I have a splitting headache. After spending some time at church getting some last-minute work done, I went home and vacuumed. Then I cleaned a few windows -- anything to make me feel as if I accomplished something. Therapy.

But it wasn't enough. I felt as if I was drowning. I decided to escape for a while, to shut it all out and take a nap. Therapy. But even that didn't work so well, with Grace waking me up because AppleTV froze. Then my mom walked in. Ugh ... what a day ...

I had enough. I needed therapy of a different sort, for bathing suit shopping just added to the dark cloud above my head, and the handful of M&M's made me a bit nauseous. The sky was gray, but I didn't care. I needed to work in my garden.

I grabbed Grace's hand and jumped into the car, speeding to Home Depot. I hadn't mapped out my garden yet, but I figured I could at least purchase some vegetables. Roma and grape tomatoes, eggplant, and red and green bell peppers. Cilantro and basil for the herb pot. And I just couldn't pass up the 99-cent geraniums of the prettiest colors. Oh, did that feel good.

Oh, you just know there's a snafu in the mix. I picked up the red pepper and as I was preparing to put it into the ground, I glanced at the tag. JALAPENO. What the heck???!! Oh, how I despise things that are placed in the wrong section, the shelf declaring "Sweet Red Bell Peppers" and this one rogue Jalapeno stuffed in the mix. I seem to recall last year's similar snafu, with Ichiban eggplant filling our garden, when the sign expressly said "Black Beauty" ...

Who cares. I planted it anyway. We'll just have more Mexican food than usual this summer. The sun came out, and Grace played happily in Bug World (or, rather, Mud World). It was hot and muggy (a far cry from the chilly weather we've been having) but I didn't care. My therapy was working. It was muddy indeed, but it felt good. It smelled good. It looks good.

I don't feel as if I'm in control of my life during this "season." I'm constantly a few steps behind, always trying to catch up and never quite making it. I don't thrive well in that kind of environment. But today, getting muddy in my garden, everything was OK. It was a good day. This is my kind of therapy.