How I deal with crap

No matter how bad my life is going, no matter how crummy a day I’ve had, no matter how many curve balls life throws my way, when I lay my head down at night, I can always say “at least I’m not a cow in a feed yard”.

That really has to be the worse doesn’t it?  Compared to pasture cows who can graze all the live long day, a feed yard cow only eats when the feed truck drops food in the trough.  The rest of the time they stand there on that huge hill of poop smelling the stench of manure, swatting flies with their tail, and batting dust from their eyelashes in overcrowded conditions, all the while awaiting their day of execution.

Now some people may want to argue this, saying those cows live the life, and to each his own.  I just know when I pass by a feed lot, I’m just a little bit more thankful my stomach doesn’t have 4 compartments.

So today, I will count my blessings.  And you should to.  Even when manure is hitting the fan.  Even when the ketchup packet exploded on your white blouse, even if you lost a $50 in the grocery store parking lot, even if your Almond Joy melted in your pocket.

Remember it could be worse.

You could always live in a feed lot.

Stress? Why yes, I’ll have another.

My blog has been rather quiet lately and I hate that, but that’s because right now I am literally up to my eyeballs in moving boxes.

I had this great idea to start the process of packing early, uncluttering, and only taking the essentials.  And it seems that has dragged this whole shindig out way too long. Image

Needless to say, I’m a wee bit stressed right now.

I have a motto that I try to live by.  “Live Simply”.  And so far, I’m pretty much stinking it up.  I  have no idea how on this blessed earth I have managed to accumulate so many things.  Anybody relate?  I mean really, do I need two Bundt pans?  And it’s not as if I’ve lived in the same place for 40 years.  We’ve only lived here for about 2 years.  You would think I would have cleaned out the last time we moved. But my lazy bones got the best of me and I just moved all the stuff and decided to deal with it later.  And later has become now.

In the process of cleaning out, I’ve had to make some really tough decisions.  It seems my hoarding/sentimental side can come up with a myriad of excuses as to why I should keep the things I own.

But your grandma/dad/brother/third cousin twice removed gave that to you.

What if you host Christmas or Thanksgiving some year?  You might need 24 drinking glasses.

You actually plan on making something crafty with that broken rake head, remember?

It’s nice to have a spare coffee pot, iron, Bundt pan. What if the other breaks?

This needless, worthless, piece of junk might be worth money some day.

You paid a lot for that {insert item here} 24 years ago.

To my hoarding/sentimental self, I’ve had to say, “Enough!  Just because something was a gift, doesn’t mean I have to keep it forever.  If I ever need 24 drinking glasses, I’ll borrow some from a neighbor.  If my iron breaks, well then yippee! And just because it cost a lot 24 years ago, doesn’t mean it’s worth a thing now.  I mean, Look at it!”

Then there’s the packing.  I’ve only ever moved a short distance in the past.  So you know how that goes, you just pull the drawers out from the dresser and stack them in the horse trailer, right? Why bother actually pulling the clothes out and putting them in boxes? You make about 50 trips with small things like lamps and bread makers.  If it’s just a few miles, you don’t even have to really seal up the boxes.  Drive slowly with breakable items clinking lightly, watch the bumps, and everything will be just fine.

But we’re not going a few miles, we’re going 300 or something.

That means bubble wrap has become my new best friend.  Things I never thought actually belonged in a box are being put in a box, which makes for a lot of boxes.

Adding to the frustration of this move is attempting a day to day routine in the house while I’m packing.  Realizing I already packed the spatulas in the midst of frying eggs is never a good thing.

Plus, there’s the emotional trauma of moving from the town that I was born and raised in to a place where I won’t know anyone in the grocery store or who I can borrow 24 drinking glasses from on Thanksgiving.

And just for fun, why don’t we throw in the biggest holiday of the year right smack dab in the middle of packing and moving away from home?  Which in and of itself is a major stressor right there.   The shopping, the wrapping, the presents, the relatives.  Please pass the eggnog.

Oh, and least I forget.  Mix in a ten month old, whose really in a clingy stage or if she’s not clinging, she’s unpacking what has just been packed.

Or using the boxes to her advantage.

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But I will persevere.  And we will get moved in just a few more days.

One of which is a major holiday filled with gifts and presents.

Which translated means more stuff to pack.

But I gotta look on the bright side.  Maybe I can score some really great boxes.

And have eggnog.

De-Stressing

Stress.  We all have it.  It attacks us at different times and for different reasons. 
I’ve been feeling a tad bit overwhelmed lately.  When I stop to think about my life, I realize that in the last 3 weeks I have buried my dad and have (am presently) moving to a new house, while not selling my other one.   Two semi-large stressors added to my life.  Then, if you add in the new baby chickens, that’s like additional family members right there, ain’t it?  I’d say they rank right up there with birthing a new baby, wouldn’t you?  I mean they have their own nursery for crying out loud.  I check on them constantly, make sure they’re breathing, and listen to their peeps through the baby monitor. 

Kidding, kidding. 

About the last part anyway.

Instead of packing, cleaning, unpacking my belongings, organizing for a garage sale, and doing things to help RELIEVE my stressors, instead I google stress just to see if I’m really stressed.  You know sometimes I need to confirm my thinking.  If I think I’m stressed, well by golly, I need to prove it to everyone else. 

There’s a little test you can take online.  It’s a simple inventory where you check off a few things that have happened in the past 24 months.  So I clicked away, and discovered that actually I’m not as stressed as I think I am.  So I must tell myself to Get. Over. It. and Get. On. With. It.

In my google searching, I found a little article however that talked of  the small things that actually stress us out more than we realize, and sometimes more than the big stuff.  Things like co-workers and facebook.  Can you believe facebook can be stressful?  Why yes, yes I can.  It is the absolute zapper of time, leaving us feeling more stressed because we don’t have time to do what we should’ve been doing while we were busy stalking and poking others.  This article also says it can play a big part on your emotions, leaving you feeling inadequate when you read that someone just met Their Mr. Perfect, while you’re still waiting by the phone.

So what do I do when I’m feeling overwhelmed, overcome, and overextended?

I hit the road walking.  I unplug myself from the busy world via technology and head out.  Now that we’ve moved outside the city limits, I have nothing but wide open spaces and a long country road to walk.  No cars and no dogs.  Just the singing of the birds and the blowing of an occasional train whistle falls on my ears.

I walk and I pray.  Out loud.  I thank God for everything.  I start counting blessings.  Being out in nature just makes me feel so blessed and thankful.  Lately I’ve been feeling so close to God the Creator.  I’m in awe of Him.

Look at this picture of brown dirt road, meeting green hay field,  meeting blue sky. 

This view speaks to me.

It says, “Hello, I’m God.”   And I speak back and simply say, “Thanks.”

While walking and talking with Him, He grants me peace and lets me know it’s okay.  Everything is okay.  It’s as if He says, “Angel, look around you.  Look at all this.  I did it. Nothing is too big for me. See the size of this Texas sky?”

Let me give you a link to this beautiful song. 

It’s saying what I’m trying to.