Spiritual Axiom – When ‘IT’ imbalances You, it usually is YOU!

Spiritual Axiom



Spiritual Axiom

Saturday morning my daughter and I headed out to the bank to try to get the last bit of evidence needed for immigration. I was pissed off before I even entered the bank because of what happened in the parking lot. When I parallel-parked I barely touched the car behind me with my bumper. We were parking on a strip that runs next to all the stores as you pull in, and this fucking BITCH comes out of the restaurant as I’m coming out of my car and says, very condescending and sarcastic, “Could you do me a favor, and when you park pay attention so that you don’t hit the car behind you? Hmmm?” I was floored. “I’m sure that’s never happened to you,” I said…and she says, “No, I’m more careful!”

I swear I felt like taking a fucking sledgehammer to her fucking car right then because nobody should be that attached to a fucking piece of machinery. I know, I know…I shouldn’t have tapped her car…but Jesus, to come out of the restaurant and say something? She obviously doesn’t realize that her car is probably bumped like that ALL the time when she isn’t looking. It happens everywhere…that’s what bumpers are for! 😉 It was mostly her tone of voice that really grated me…I can’t get it out of my head.

So in that mood, I go into the bank. I go to the teller and say I need a statement of my account for this immigration thing. She says, in some Slavic accent, “Oh, I had to do this 2 months ago. It will cost you 25 bucks.” WHAT? I didn’t like that. Why would it cost money? What the fuck was she talking about? The other tellers started getting involved, and they all disagreed. I was told to go to customer service and I was pissed. I was obnoxious. My poor daughter was embarrassed. I had some tears in my eyes cause I was thinking not only was it going to cost me money, but I wasn’t going to walk out with anything either…I was going to have to ‘order’ them and wait. Thankfully, the customer service rep was trained well and he was a Zen master. He saw I was upset and kept his voice soothing and calm and steady…he asked to see the instructions from immigration, which I handed over. He read what I had NOT read (AGAIN) and said, “I can do this for you…don’t worry.” I just needed a fucking LETTER, and he only had to look up my info and total the deposits. I wanted to give him a hug! And I apologized for being so upset when I approached him.

Then we found out that the bank had a notary officer, so I didn’t have to rush to get to the AAA place before they closed. I waited for Mrs. Rice, who laughed when S. and I told her that we were laughing how her name was Rice and the officer next to her was named ‘Lam’…”Lamb and Rice”…nobody had ever pointed that out to her before. The other office at the end of the hall, I told S. to run and check…the last name was COFFEY. So she notarized us and we went over to the post office where I bought a padded envelope and filled out a customs declaration and wrote a hasty note to Pete on the envelope with the forms, then put that and the beard trimmer he left here by accident in the padded envelope…then mailed it off. PHEW. I forgot to read yet another thing that said they wanted everything in duplicate, so I wrote in Pete’s note to photocopy everything twice so he can send two copies and keep one when he is ready to send in his ‘I have everything on the checklist’ form. I enclosed the instruction sheet also so he can look at it one more time and make sure I have everything because as soon as that envelope was sealed I was convinced I had forgotten something.

We then went into Old Navy and bought a cute outfit for the baby we were about to go visit and a bathing suit for S. Then we hit the road to drive an hour and a half into the wilds of New Jersey to visit my good friend C. and her 2-week-old son. No problems, we got there in good time and had a very relaxing afternoon and evening. C. had snacks of chips and salsa and veggies and dip that we scarffed on, and she had already been out before we got there to pick up all sorts of BBQ food from a nearby restaurant. She just re-heated everything for dinner and it was delicious. I ate like a pig and thoroughly enjoyed it. After getting plenty of baby cuddling and baby sniffing (it’s true, nothing smells as good as a newborn baby), we left to come home around 9:30 or so. My daughter passed out in the car and when I got home around 11pm I carried her up to her bed. We both slept until 9 this morning, which is late for us!

You know what is sad, though, and evidence that I am over-stressed (not that I needed any evidence of that)? When I was falling asleep last night I found myself thinking of that girl in the fucking parking lot again and felt my whole body tense up! Only someone with mental problems would think about that again after a long and overall good day like I had! It feels like old behavior and it is uncomfortable. I managed to check myself pretty quickly and let it flow out of my head so I could sleep, but I was annoyed with myself for the lapse. I need to have some more generosity towards my fellow humans. Perhaps she had recently been screwed by her insurance company for damage done to her car in a parking lot and was still feeling the burn in her wallet from getting it fixed! Perhaps she was having a bad week also and needed an outlet for her righteous indignation. Perhaps she was just a little snot, too, but is it any of my business? NO. Did I tap her car? Yes. I should have just said I was sorry and shut my mouth.

The spiritual axiom we talk about in recovery is that every time we are disturbed, there is invariably something wrong with us.

Is it wrong that part of me is just proud that I didn’t smash her windshield?

© Sarah R. Bloom, 2005.


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