All Roads Lead to Acceptance… I hope!
Shipping shit out of the country is right confusing. I mean, seriously confusing. I think I’ve got it down, now, but Jesus fuck was I confused earlier.
I? Do not like being confused. Being confused makes me mad. And anxious. And terrified.
Dementia runs in my family. I’m fucking petrified.
The little older gentleman with his adorable round spectacles and his nice tie and sweater vest was very patient with me, and even tried to comfort me when he realized how anxious I was.
“Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.” he goes.
This morning, I called the post office’s customer service line, and can I just say, their voice activated automated phone service sucks ass. It is not intuitive at all, and, just like all the others, it can’t tell the difference between a bird screaming, and a human talking. I mean, I’d understand if my bird was, say, a talking cockatiel. But the only things Zedd does are wolf whistle, blow kisses, and make Woody the Woodpecker noises after bashing his beak on the bars of his cage repeatedly. And scream. High pitched, and loud, and I don’t care who you are, it cannot be mistaken for a human voice.
Stupid automated phone systems. You did not make it easier on my by forcing me to talk to your machine instead of pushing numbers. Assholes.
And they lied to me! They told me I was only going to have to pay about $15 to ship a package to New Zealand, but when I got there, they charged me $35. Apparently, my letter scale really is just a letter scale. The packages I needed to ship were far too heavy for it.
But like… I have flat rate boxes. Of course I do! I get shit shipped to me all the time. I’ve got a ton of flat rate boxes! So I start measuring them, right? So I can look them up and figure out how much we’re gonna have to pay.
I’m going somewhere with this. I promise.
Either they don’t all carry the same boxes, they don’t have all the boxes listed on their site, or… something. Cause no matter which way I measure these damn things, they don’t measure the same as the website says. And, like I said, they charged me more than twice as much as they said they were going to on the phone.
Add in that the site said I had three customs forms to fill out for different reasons, and I was thoroughly lost, and completely unsure how I was gonna get it done before we got up to the dude behind the counter.
I hate not being ready. I hate people who aren’t ready. It’s rude and inconsiderate.
So I had a mini freak out moment when I couldn’t figure out what I needed to do before I left the house, and what I’d have to do when I got there, and whether or not I’d have to get in line before I could fill out the customs forms.
And M was just all, “Rayne, turn around. Kneel right there.” And then He explained to me what we were gonna do, and that it was gonna be okay, and that I really didn’t need to be freaking out about it, and most importantly, I didn’t need to be freaking out on Him about it, and we’d figure it out. But really, most of that was unnecessary. I started to calm down the second He told me to kneel.
And I felt it happening, and recognized my comfort in His control snaking its way into all the nooks and crannies in my mind. Memories of both of us noticing this before followed. And I started wondering why He stopped taking control like this in these situations.
I guess the only honest answer is that I used to get really pissed off. Back when I wasn’t ready to admit that I needed help, or accept that I really wasn’t being respectful in my approach. And these days, I know I occasionally need help, but I feel like I shouldn’t, and so I beat myself up for it.
It’s funny, after eight years, M and I are still learning how to relate to each other. Still trying to figure out the best way to handle things. And part of that is because I’m still trying to figure my “eccentricities” out. Still learning how to control them. Still learning how to avoid letting them affect our relationship, and my relationships with other people.
But somehow, I think we’ve found the path back to my acceptance. And I think that’s gonna make finding our way to where we hope to eventually be much, much easier.