And I thought yesterday was bad...

So after my little breakdown last night, I sent my therapist an email.  He usually knows how to handle me, I guess you could say.  Long story short, I end up in his office, and I'm playing with my stress ball, which, low and behold, was in the passenger seat of my car.  Anyway, here we are, just chatting, when I look down, and much to my dismay, my stress ball exploded. OK, so I wouldn't say "exploded" as much as I would say ruptured.  It popped like a water balloon and its contents were spewing from the hole. My precious stress ball had spilled its soft, fine, powder all over me.  I looked at him, with a look of, I'm sure, pure horror.  I wanted to cry.  It was like I lost a tiny (round, purple) part of me.  So here I sit, feeling absolutely mortified, and humiliated at the same time.  Why on earth am I so worked up over this?  Am I that completely broken? I suggested to Brad that I promptly take it outside and bury it.  He chuckles, but on the inside, I'm partly serious.  It felt like that much of a loss.  I am definitely a child sometimes.  Since I think he sensed the dismay in my eyes--he has some kind of magical power with which to do that--he suggested to me that I try to learn to meditate.  Now, I will clarify it the same way he did.  We're not talking hard core Meditation all Vulcan or Buddha style here, we're just talking relaxing music, closing the eyes and just letting the day wash away.  I didn't dare laugh at the suggestion, partly because he usually ends up being right, and partly because with a broken stress ball, something HAD to change.  However, I was skeptical.  Me?  Sit still and relax?  Um, earth to Brad, have you MET me? That, he retorted, was exactly the point.  (Here I insert a note that when I have 10+ years of higher education, I will reserve the right to talk like that as well.  :P  )  

FAST FORWARD A FEW HOURS....Here I sit, amidst a cluttered, chaotic house, mourning the loss of the stress ball I so affectionately came to call, Stressy.  I had promptly followed his directions, (because usually when it comes to a therapist, they will tell it to you like a suggestion, but they say it in such a way that you run off and do what they suggested like a little kid) and I went to find some relaxing music on my way home.  9 o'clock comes around, and thinking I have nothing to lose, I pop that bad boy into my computer, and press play.  I don't think I could have picked a more perfect CD....the sound of waves crashing over a beach while a piano sonata is floating among the stars fills my ears and I have to fight to keep the anxiety going.  (Gosh I hate/love it when he's right.  Always so simple, yet never something I would think of myself.) The goal was for me to sit still for five minutes and just listen to the different sounds of the music floating through my senses.  And did it ever.  I had to remind myself to breathe I was so calm. You out there, are you listening?  Elizabeth Mills was calm. Anyway, what I guess that long ramble was intended to say was sometimes you find relief in ways you least expect it, but I think you have to be at a point where you're not looking for it, if that makes any sense.  Oh, and on one other note, while I'm Julie & Julia-ing it up, this music, and it's calming properties almost seemed to bring my creativity, and my inner voice out of me.  I mean, when was the last time one of my posts was this entertaining?  That's what I thought.  Anyway, if you're reading this...

Try something new today.  You just might like what you find.