Barely Insane

Its the safest frame of mind in the world today

Dropping your basket…Southern Style

on November 10, 2012

This is a long post-Its actually one of my blogs..but I feel all my lady friends need to read it–I am all for the way women are able to share those embarrassing or traumatic moments that only happen to US–So if any of you are running on empty or stressed to the max or being pulled a hundred different ways–read and enjoy a laugh at my expense.

To a southerner there are two terms most women know the definitions of that others around the world may not. One is called a “come apart”..and the other is being to the point where you are about to “drop your basket.”

The difference between a “come apart” and “dropping your basket” is fairly simple.
A come apart is a good ole fashioned hissy fit- the only thing that gets hurt is maybe someones feelings- while YOU on the other hand, feel a lot better after having one. You may throw a few things for effect-or scream like a lunatic or even threaten those on the receiving end with bodily harm…but a come apart is just that, a coming completely apart on someone else, where you appear to be crazy, but are enjoying the stress relief your hissy fit is providing you with–you may seem to have lost your mind, but as long as you know your perfectly sane…its all good.

“Dropping your basket” on the other hand is an old southern term for going Bat- sh%t crazy–as in “out of your mind” insane with or without a particular someone on the receiving end. A come apart can happen on the spur of the moment, dropping your basket is something you feel yourself literally TRYING to hold on to. That is until….you drop it.

I dropped my basket this week. I wont go into all the particulars, but lets just say between having my ADD issues spring up like they haven’t since I was in my early 20’s-and getting behind on EVERYTHING, as well as forgetting and loosing everything in sight, and the election results (haha) it was only a matter of time before I lost my mind for a minute as well.

I tried for quite awhile to hold on to it, but all control escaped me after getting to the check out line in the store the other day, completely forgetting my pin number to my debit card, pushing password after password on the key pad, until I locked myself out of my bank account, then being unable to find my car keys anywhere in my disaster of a messy purse, slinging my purse all over the parking lot in an attempt to find the keys which were still in the ignition where I had left them, convincing myself that my car wasn’t stolen because only a crazy person would have all the insane obama hating magnets on their car. I figured a crook thought the keys in the ignition had to be a trap. After getting into my car, I was distracted by the hot air blowing out my vents while it was set to cold, almost hit a car pulling into parking lot, flipping off the person who was blowing their horn and yelling at me–digging in my purse for nicotine replacement mints, even though I have not smoked in almost 6 years..then realizing I don’t have my wallet-turning around to go find wallet and sun glasses still in the parking lot where I slung the contents of my purse. Driving home and getting on the computer only to forget my online banking ID as well–getting someone on the phone at the bank who can’t help me, because well..I cant freaken remember any of my SH%T for them to “identify” its me with. Deciding to call it a day and hang on to my basket with all my might and get a good nights sleep…..

Only to wake up in a cold sweat at one am, knowing there was something I had forgotten to do…(ya think?) Being half asleep on ambien while digging through the bills to see what I may have forgotten to pay, or failed to mail or even open…that turned into making online payments at one am on a few of those bills–only to get up the next morning and remember my online banking password, that bit of happiness soon faded when I signed on and discovered that during my 1 am. bill paying marathon, I paid the same bill TWICE. The chaos continued on, between weeks of hubby using debit card and failing to tell me, kids sending me reminder text for things they needed done, the 16-year-old nagging every five minutes to drive somewhere, ballgames all over east Cobb, and my sanity slowly slipping…so it was no surprise that day brought with it at least 20 things I had forgotten to do, playing hide and seek with everything that ended up in my hands and then sat down somewhere I couldn’t recall, a full-blown screaming fit with the person behind me at Martins who blew their horn at me, pulling forward and almost hitting the little old lady who was pushing bread crates to the Colonial bread truck and had the misfortune of walking in front of my car. She had no way of knowing that the middle-aged lady driving the SUV was holding on to her basket with only one hand at that moment. Bless her..she has no idea that she had a guardian angel keep her from being squashed under my wheels as I gunned the gas pedal in the drive through after screaming and looking backwards and waving my stun gun out the window at the hick who had blown the horn at me for no reason.

So at about 4pm that day after a crap load of more stress I couldn’t process–I didn’t just drop my basket–I threw the SOB as hard as I could and as far away from me as I could.

My crazy self ends up pulled over, trying to decide if I want to stop a police officer and ask him to take me to jail where I can have a cot, some sleep, no cell phone or way to be reached, no ability to take care of anything for anyone and forego my one phone call so that no one knows where I am– Instead, I end up sitting there with a pen and a Walmart receipt because it was the only paper I could find anywhere in my purse or car…and I start to write down what all I do each day, who I do it for, and what is my “job” to take care of from day-to-day.

I would use the word ENLIGHTENMENT here, but it doesn’t suffice. After I had it all written down, scribbled long ways and sideways, front, back and across a fairly long Walmart receipt, I then circled the things that were stressing me the hell out. Amazingly, nothing I do each day in being a parent gave me any issues. Nothing I do in regards to being a wife, mother, housewife or friend stressed me out. Nothing I do for those in my extended family that I would die for caused me any grief. But there were a hell of a lot of “duties” I had somehow taken on that were above and beyond my job to do.

Example:

When I ask my husband why he didn’t make a sandwich and he tells me that it was because I didn’t TELL him there was HAM in the refrigerator…that is NOT my job. A grown man can go look and see for himself if the ham someone else bought for him is indeed there. Its my job to go grocery shop–but not to be responsible for someone not fixing themselves something because I didn’t tell them what there was to eat. Its my job to parent my kids, to check them out when they are sick, write an excuse when they go back to school. But it is not my “job” to bring Cason a drink to school because he is thirsty or check him out because he is tired from playing video games late or has a sub he doesn’t like. Its my job to clean my house, but not to spend an hour hunting something a child forgot to bring up to be washed or lost and needs ASAP. If one of the men in this house need new underwear-Hey..it might be my responsibility to pick some up while in Walmart–but inspecting each pair to figure out who needs new ones, well that isn’t my job. Its part of their personal responsibly to let me know. Everything I circled that had me stressed to the max was something I had somehow taken on that was another persons PERSONAL responsibility to themselves. The other things I circled were things I had NO control over-issues I cant change, things someone has to do for themselves or want to do for themselves. I had no idea how much I kept up with, reminded people of, took care of and took the blame for that are NOT my job to do.

I couldn’t believe all the BS that I had been holding inside that freaken basket–a basket that I had been trying so hard not to drop–Then I realized that it was an early Christmas miracle that not only did I drop it..but praise GOD..I DROP KICKED the stupid thing like a full blown maniac–Because everything that wasn’t mine, which somehow ended up in my basket outweighed my ability to utilize the coping mechanisms I have mastered over the years to accomplish anything regarding the things in life I LOVE to do!
My basket had become full of the responsibility of things we cant change, things we cant control and things that are other people’s personal responsibility to do for themselves. Carrying all those jobs take the pleasure and joy away from the things we are SUPPOSE to do. For instance, if a teacher’s job is to teach the children, but gets so weighed down with grade level meetings, team leadership, leadership teams, data collection, helping a failing school by initiating or participating in program after program, taking on duties of others…well…she doesn’t get to enjoy or do well the ONE job she is supposed to be doing and that is TEACH. She gets stressed and decides that maybe teaching isn’t for her.

It’s easy for a woman and a mother to take on everything-its hard for us to decipher what is within our power to do or change and what is simply allowing our efforts to enable someone else so that they do not have to utilize their own power. My Walmart receipt and the list written all over it while I sat in my car with a crazed deer in the headlight expression, brought everything back into focus. I ended up picking my basket back up, I carefully put back inside it all the things I wished to keep–and felt no remorse for the items I left on the ground. It’s now a whole lot lighter. A word of wisdom for any of you ladies dealing with too much day-to-day stress, drama or worries; I guess you could calmly sit your basket down and go through it as if you were spring cleaning–but half our problem is thinking we “have it all under control” until we don’t. I have decided that is what the “come aparts” are for..they are basket cleanings when it gets to heavy…Without the come aparts..I promise your going to drop the thing and either make one heck of a mess or beg a cop for a ride to the jail house for a mini vacation on the tax payers dime. 🙂

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