Sometimes I overreact to things. For example, a sequence of events occurred, which would be typical to triggering an overreaction in me for the most minor and silly of things. But only because of my religious background, I DID NOT OVERREACT! To me, religion is a form of “meditation” or “control of the senses” as well as ENJOYING life by way of the Presence Of The Lord, Divine, etc, all about me. Yes, my religion indeed has a lot of ritual, perhaps someone may call that “trappings” – but these all are tools to me, wonderful magic tools that make life fun and always remind me that, no matter what crazy thing happens, I can always enjoy the SIMPLE things (such as going to the temple) and again put my “MIND” (capital M) into “automatic happy” mode and “freedom”. Though the words do not exactly explain the EXPERIENCE.
So let me give the example of what happened today…
Today, I needed to take our sedan into a shop to have struts replaced. Why? Well, my wife really wants us, the entire family, to drive to Vancouver Canada to visit with relatives! I want to offer the others plane tickets to fly there instead, and I would stay home this time. But, she really wanted to drive so that my daughter can enjoy seeing things in Oregon, Washington, and B.C. as part of her “last vacation” before starting school at her University full time. I was finally convinced to say “ok” even though I would have to use up some of my holiday/vacation time and, frankly, I hate the drive because I am an “old lady” when it comes to driving and sort of a slow poke. But I gave in to the “pressure” to go on the LONG drive from California to Canada.
But the car I wanted to take was a bit “bouncy” on the freeway – struts not the best, even though the car isn’t that old. But it does have 80,000 miles on it, and I also wanted to have the breaks checked. All safety measures. I big on safety when I have to drive long distance.
So I had to WORK today, too! But my local mechanic opened at 8am, and he actually was available even before 8am when I called him and he said “come on over right now!”. So I did, he even already gave me the quote over the phone and it was a good deal.
So let me cut to the chase.
I dropped the car off, and told him to give me a call after all four struts/shocks were replaced and to let me know how the brakes looked, I wanted them fixed prior to any long distance drive.
I gave him my cell number to call instead of the regular home phone on record, since I had to leave to for work using my second car. He would call me to let me know if I needed a brake job, I had already ok’d the new struts. My wife picked me up, took me back home, and I left to work in a second car – a bit late now.
I show up to work, and everything is crazy. Nuts.
I was thinking of calling the mechanic around lunch time, but I didn’t, though I was wondering why I didn’t get any call yet. I was thinking, “well, struts probably take all day to put in, and besides it is 102 degrees Fahrenheit today and the mechanic and his assistance must be suffering in the heat… so it is probably an all day job” ….
Then I got into all kinds of crazy stuff at work. I never called. Nor did I get any call. But I left early, about 4pm, thinking he would probably call as I am driving home to let me know that other car was ready and probably didn’t need a brake job but the struts are on.
No call on the way home… Traffic was nuts. Absolutely nuts.
I decide to go directly to the shop when I get into town. So I drive right there, and walk in.
“Well”, says my mechanic, “Mister Missing in Action.”
What? I say… I am confused.
He tells me he called me SIX times, all he got was my wife’s voice mail. I am confused. Firstly, I gave him my cell phone number, not my wife’s. But I show him my phone log, no calls. He says again, no he called six times, and shows me the proof. “I called you at the number you gave me!”, and he shows me. I look, indeed he did. But I am confused. Must be a technical glitch, I say. Again I show my call log. He tells me, “well… I couldn’t get hold of you, hear, listen to the voice mail I was getting” and he plays the recording of the calls he made and the answering machine that answered his calls. It was loud in his front desk, other cars were being worked, but I hear the female voice as part of a recording on the answering machine, and I say, “yup, that’s my wife!” – odd, I say. So I must have given him my wife’s number, I say to him. He says the number out loud… Hmmmm.. that IS my number I say, not my wife's! I tell him I don’t get it.
Then he says, “well… I couldn’t get hold of you, and you needed front brakes, so I just did it. It will cost you $xxx more.” …. I feel sort of funny. But I KNOW I gave him the right cell phone number. What the?
Now, at this juncture, I could have “gone off”. You know, “overreact”. I say to myself, don’t. Just stay “level”. No reason, just sort of meditate right there, right now. I did. I didn’t overreact. Instead, I stayed calm, collected, and even smiled, called him by his first name as I do. He played the voice mail again.
That is when I realized the woman’s voice was some gal I never knew, I don’t know her from a hole in the wall. Then he says the number again, as I am paying the bill.
It was only, probably after the sixth time he told me the phone number, that I realized it was one digit wrong. I gave him the wrong cell number. It was my fault. I told him, and we laughed and I made a joke, “I wonder what that woman is thinking now”. He says, well for sure she never calls back to anyone leaving voice mail.
So that is what religion does for me. It makes me understand, to stay calm. To not overreact. That in MOST cases, and crazy as something seems, it is probably something you did to yourself.
That is WHAT religions means to me. When you "do it like that", everything will be ok.
….
I can give you more stories … like the day BEFORE today. Like yesterday, when I went to my storage unit. Yes, I have one because I have so many religious books, among other things. I have to keep them in a storage unit. But I had to go there after work yesterday, to find, don’t laugh, a VISA card that had arrived in the mail about 9 months ago. When it arrived, my wife opened the envelope in the kitchen and said, your new VISA card has arrived. You need to call number XXX to activate it. I said, “eeeh, just put it away, I never use it, better just put it away someplace, may use it later”. So she did. I didn’t ask where she put it. Then I forgot all about it.
Then a bunch of guests were coming over just recently, related to my daughter’s graduation. I had some books around, papers, work stuff, you know, the slob. I think, “just throw everything in boxes and bring it to the storage unit”.
So I did. That was, I don’t know, a few weeks ago?
Then the other day, before yesterday, I decide, “hey, I will use that credit card to pay for the struts”. Where is the card? – I ask my wife. It is NOT in my wallet! Wait! Did I LOSE it???? Oh, let me check my old wallet (I used cheap material wallets, they break and fall apart). Nope. Uh… let me check the box in the closet, where I throw old junk. Nope. Wait! NOW I remember! I tell my wife, hey, I remember now. Months ago, you showed me the card, and I said “put it away, I never use it but probably will later”. She says, well, if that is so, here is where I would put it. But it isn’t there.
I start to get ready to “overreact”. Did someone steal my VISA card? One of my daughter’s friends? Uh… the guy who put in the new bath and shower? Did my wife “space it out”? Everyone else’s fault, of course.
This goes on for hours…. Looking. Panic attack could start. Does someone have my VISA card? Perhaps some scumbag?
It was the next day, after acting frustrated and sort of bad. Then I remember. Hey – I threw a bunch of stuff in two boxes, and brought those boxes to the storage unit. I bet, as I tell my wife, it is in one of those boxes! But the storage unit place closes at 7pm, sharp. Can’t get in the security gate after 7pm. I look at my watch. I have 15 minutes.
I jump in my car, and drive TOO fast. I get there, about 5 minutes to spare, maybe 7 minutes. I get into the gate. I drive down to the “far end”. My unit is down a “dark hall” (not facing the outside). I turn the “light gizmo” that lights up the unit, one little turn gives you like 15 minutes I think. I get to the locked “swing up” metal gate of my unit, two padlocks, I am fumbling for the two keys, I get the thing open, I look, there are the boxes. I start going through one. No envelope with a VISA card. It is frigging 120 degrees in that metal unit. I think I am going to die. I pull the box out and throw it in the hallway. Next box, no luck, throw it, too. Then the light goes off.
That is when the lady started screaming at me, threatening me.
She was outside the hall, not too far from my parked car, which was unlocked.
She was a maniac. I guess the “homeless” druggie types get into the complex to sleep or something. It is now 720pm, the place is closed, I wonder if I can get out? She is now screaming at me, “You ******ing dumb ****, DIE you! DIE! You f******** dumb ***” !!!!' yadda, she is screaming and it doesn’t sound very good.
I start to say, “Just shut this unit up, and get out of here”… But the friggin’ gate, I keep sliding it back down after throwing two of the boxes back in, keeping one in the hall that I will check at home, the lady is screaming – I cannot get the frigging “gate” to my unit down correctly to slide the latch to put on the two padlocks! This has never happened before. She is louder now. I have my knife. I always carry a knife. Yes, I am a killer if it comes down to that.
Should I stab her? If she comes at me?
I finally, in a panic, get the friggin’ gate down and locked. She is going beserk.
I pick up the box, and start down the dark hall to the light.
She will be waiting there.
I step into the light. My God. There she is. Friggin’s tall one but skinny, skinny arms. Her hair is ALL WHITE and long. She looks like a druggie witch or something. And she is insane like nobody’s business.
I look left. Thank God! There is a TRUCK outside about six outward facing units away! He is a cowboy type, no nonsense. She starts to go after both of us. I remain calm. If I stab her, I figure I will just get myself in trouble. I do NOT overreact. The cowboy tells her to get lost, as she starts screaming at him.
I put the box in my car. I start it up. I have to turn it around. But to do so, I have to drive ALL the way to the end and turn it around in the wider area next to the garbage bin. Then come back – TOWARDS HER.
The cowboy is in his truck. Waiting, I guess? I come slowly. There she is. I give her a smile and a wave.
She looks like she just saw a ghost.
I get past, and out, by way of the front gate, entering the “secret code”. I get home. Yup, there was the VISA card. It was all my fault.
Thank God, I am religious. Meditatively, that is. I didn’t stab anyone. I didn’t overreact.
That is one advantage… to being religious. So give it another try… but use a different approach to WHY you are doing it. Think of it like the “little pink pill”.
