In Little Women, Jo has what she refers to as a "Jonah day", a day when everything seems to go wrong and no matter how hard she tries to perk herself up, something knocks her down again. I'm not entirely sure why she refers to it as a Jonah day, other than maybe it felt something like being in the belly of a whale. It might have just been some slang from that Victorian time period that has connotations that I'll never fully understand. Regardless, she described how she felt and so, judging from that, I'm having a Jonah day too. That, or the switching of birth controls have my emotions and hormones entirely out of whack. I usually have a pretty long fuse, but the Wind Symphony tour took up a lot of that. Patience is always something I've had to battle, so when you pair that with being more temperamental that usual, today probably just had it coming.
It would serve no purpose to go into depth as to what all happened. Little things build up; we all know that. I had my cry and I'm dusting myself off. I finished reading Eat, Pray, Love today, though (as I blog throughout the summer, please don't be annoyed at the amount of books that I reference; I look forward to summer so much because I get a chance to read bookoos of books), and there was something in there that made me stop and think. I could never word it like she did, so here's an excerpt.
"I pictured the harbor of my mind - a little beat-up, perhaps, a little storm-worn, but well situated and with a nice depth. The harbor of my mind is an open bay, the only access to the island of my Self (which is a young and volcanic island, yes, but fertile and promising). This island has been through some wars, it is true, but it is now committed to peace, under a new leader (me) who has instituted new policies to protect the place. And now - let the word go out across the seven seas - there are much, much stricter laws on the books about who may enter this harbor.
You may not come here anymore with your hard and abusive thoughts,with your plague ships of thoughts, with your slave ships of thoughts, with your warships of thoughts - all these will be turned away. Likewise, any pamphleteers, mutineers and violent assassins, desperate prostitutes, pimps and seditious stowaways - you may not come here anymore, either. Cannibalistic thoughts, for obvious reasons, will no longer be received. Even missionaries will be screened carefully, for sincerity. This is a peaceful harbor, the entryway to a fine and proud island that is only now beginning to cultivate tranquility. If you can abide by these new laws, my dear thoughts, then you are welcome in my mind - otherwise, I shall turn you all back toward the sea from whence you came.
That is my mission, and it will never end.''
I let my thoughts and emotions control far too much of me far too much of the time, and I would venture to say that most human beings do. It's our hard-wiring, but really, aren't our thoughts our own? So don't we have the privilege and even the responsibility to control them? Most thoughts spring up from our subconscious, so it's not as if we can stop negative thoughts from happening. But - we can acknowledge them, understand where they came from and why they arrived, and then dismiss them with forgiveness and fortitude. We can choose not to dwell on them. I can choose not to let any of it - anger, frustration, hurt, disappointment - camp out in my head and heart, and swell there. I can choose to let all of those thoughts and feelings just slide off of my back.
I went running after another setback happened. My heart was so angry and hurt by that point that it literally felt like there was a giant spikeball pumping in my chest. I could either a) punch a wall in the brand new apartment, b) go utilize the retail therapy that Maurices loves to offer, c) yell my frustrations out at God, or d) let the endorphins of running bring me some stability. I know I needed to talk to God, but when I tried, I found that all I was doing was ranting and complaining and I just felt... pathetic. I mean, really - there are people with much bigger problems than bills, shoddy internet connection, and boyfriends that say things without thinking when stressed. "Okay," I told myself, "go for your run. Calm the heck down. Then God can work on your spirit a bit." So I did. I could tell that I had been away from the gym and Maryville for a few days, because between my workout this morning and that run, let me tell you, I am worn out. And my emotions were worn out too, enough, at least, that God could actually get a word in edgewise.
"Refrain from anger and turn from wrath; do not fret - it leads only to evil." Psalm 37:8
Why do I get so angry sometimes? Why do I worry? (Why do I ca-aa-aa-re?) Do I really have such a small understanding of the faithfulness and steadiness of God? Apparently so. My thoughts are mine to take control of, and I am to draw steadiness from Him.
There. That is what I have learned from this Jonah day.
