Tuesday, July 7, 2020 –
I do not know what a “spirit animal” is, but someone once told me that I am a snapping turtle / sloth chimera. I suppose that if I had to pick what animal represents me, that amalgamation seems about right…I guess.
Truth is I really like my shell…a lot! It is rather warm and cozy in here. It has a nice, hard exterior to keep me safe. It has a little hole for me to stick my head out if I so choose, but it is also nice and roomy so I can batten-down the hatches and hold up for a while.
But sloths? Mmm-kay. That one seemed a bit far-fetched at first, but then I read a little more about my sloth friends. Apparently, they are quite aggressive towards anyone getting in their space because they get utterly stressed out having anyone touch them. Also, sloths have very few facial muscles, so that smiling, easy-going look is a total font. Truth is you never know what a slot is thinking until he whips out those 3-inch claws.
…oh wait, I get it now…
You see, I am prone to panic and bouts of aggressively protecting my bubble. Seriously, I do not like changes to my daily routine, nor do I handle people entering my space (physically or emotionally). I tend to shut down…quickly!
For example, a while back I got a dozen or so texts, a handful of messages and alerts from social media, and three phone calls from several different people within an hour. I got overwhelmed, shut off my phone for several days (weeks? Who knows!) and disconnected social media. I have only recently started slowly returning to texting, but I still leave my phone in random places and forget about it. I have not gone back to “the book” or any other social media—probably won’t for a while, if ever. EEK!
It is not that I never talk to people. I just get extreme anxiety from, well, people. I have one human, Mr. Flusche, with whom I talk. The Good Lord gave my beloved husband an abundance of graces to “handle” me and the ability to know when I need to be duly coaxed out of my shell with a bag of Cheetos. It cannot be easy dealing with a nutter like me, but he truly has a talent for it. God bless him!
I **can** talk to other people, but after a certain level of social interaction I go a bit comatose. People closest to me learn rather quickly that when I check out or say something a little **too** honest, I am full-on shell mode. Thankfully, Team Pita has some thick shells of their own as well as access to Cheetos and chocolate when necessary.
Why this side rant down crazy lane? I dunno. My spiney-sense is tingling, I guess. This year has been a bit of a cluster for all of us, and it feels far from over. I suppose my anxiety is flaring up—just like everyone else’s—and I am readying my shell.
Blood of Christ, which was poured out upon the Cross, save us!