to put things in perspective.
And I had one.
A good, old-fashioned meltdown complete with crying, sobbing, pacing, stomping, ranting, raving and, to make it an official meltdown not just just a casual break in stride, ended with the impressive sound of breaking glass.
What is it about breaking things that culminates the entire process to tie it all nicely into a neat little package that leads, oddly enough, to the return of sanity.
I didn’t actually intend, when the meltdown started, to break anything, but throwing that heavy candle-holder dead on into my bathroom mirror and watching the shatter … well, that pretty much made my day.
That sounds nutty, right?
Of course it does.
At this point, you are doing one of two things: nodding your head in agreement or shaking it in disbelief.
Those are the two choices.
There are no gray areas when it comes to the breaking point. You either do, you don’t; you are glad you did or you wish you hadn ‘t.
I’m glad I did.
My mind is as clear as a bell.
The photographic celibacy I’ve been in for the past few weeks has passed, the writer’s block has been shattered just like that bathroom mirror.
I don’t use the mirror anyway.
My hair is too short to do anything but mousse it to stand up and I haven ‘t worn make-up in years.
I did have to buy a new toothbrush, however, as I wasn’t certain I got all of the glass shards out of it and dentists and coroners alike frown on putting glass in your mouth.
People who don’t know me personally are thinking right now that they are better off, people who do know me are singing the hallelujah chorus.
There is nothing wrong with going, once in a while, off the deep end … as long as nobody gets hurt.
This is a big reason why I don’t date. Can you imagine it? I’d have a restraining order against me after the first week … unless, of course, I could find a nice Irishman who liked a donnybrook now and then as much as I did.
But that is neither here nor there.
Be who you are, even when you are throwing things. That’s my motto.
Even Jesus threw things … remember the tantrum in the temple? He is as much a part of me when I’m throwing things as when I’m in His woods or writing His words.
I’m His either way and there is magnificent peace in simply knowing that single fact. I, like the sun, the stars, the moon, the earth, the grass the trees … have a purpose.
And He helps me find it, sometimes by throwing things.
How very cool is that?