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I had another breakdown today.

I went postal.

I have just had it with the wrong mail landing in our mailbox. It’s been happening for awhile, and I’ve just been putting it back in our box with a sticky note that says “delivered to the wrong address.” However, because you can trust almost no one these days, I am wondering what all the neighbors around us, with their sharp, psychedelic claws and their possibly lie-spewing, terrible teeth, are doing with OUR mail in the meantime.

Today we got a FULL mailbox stuffed with ALL other people’s mail. I snapped. I’m sorry, it happens. I ran screaming to the phone and went postal on the poor post office lady, who of course was completely innocent and had nothing to do with the mail carrier’s mistakes. Fortunately, she gave me a tongue-lashing in return, and my emotions got reeled in for that moment, and I think we were OK by the end of the conversation.

But I am not okay now. I’ve been sobbing and yelling and being condemned for expressing my feelings.

Day to day, I’ve been depressed lately. But I’ve been doing my best. Trying really hard. I mean, really really hard, to behave in a manner that doesn’t inconvenience people or render their feelings uncomfortable. Even though, on an almost constant basis, others stream hurtful words and actions my way and I’m expected to bend over and take it with a smile. If I don’t, I’m blown off as just “being that way” or end up having puppy-dog idiots with low self-esteem (rather like myself) thinking that I hate them.

So…I just want to give up. But I know I can’t. I’m not special in my pain. It’s just the human condition. I am blessed that God the Father gave us lives as humans so that we can even experience and learn from a “condition” at all.

So I slathered myself in various essential oils for “Peace and Calming,” “Balance,” plain oils of lavender, peppermint, and wild orange, because those are the ones I have. I’ve taken homeopathic flower blends and aconite “for fear and fright.” These are all courtesy of the wonderful friends I’m reminded I do have.

I have taken an extra one of my meds, which I am permitted to do by my psychiatrist, who knows I have reached a reliable mindset on such things. I have stopped short, though, of indulging in such “medication” as is now legalized in the state in which I reside. Instead, I’ve put on my pink sweats and my pale blue sweatshirt with the pink unicorn on it…yes…I love unicorns. I’ve loved them for decades. I loved them before they became a fad for losers.  I see them as a symbol of both purity and rebirth.

So, hopfully, I’ll get over this and return to being a useful and present member of my family pretty soon. If I’m lucky, they’ll remember that I’m not having these breakdowns because I think they’re so fun and neat such a good idea.

In the meantime, don’t give up. God’s Word promises that God won’t give us more than we can handle and endure.

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