A Champagne Confession

“Man is not worried by real problems so much as by his imagined anxieties about real problems.” -Epictetus


Yesterday I drank mimosas.  Plural.  Maybe eight of them.  Okay, honestly, I didn’t count, but it was definitely more than is reasonably acceptable. 

Mimosas are happy drinks.  They have bubbles.  They are a cheery yellow color.  You drink them in fancy glasses.  Happy drinks.  But that isn’t why it sounded like a good idea.  (Spoiler alert: drinking that much Champagne is never a good idea.)

Today on my walk around the neighborhood, I asked myself, “What in the actual hell, Angie?”  I knew yesterday that those pretty bubbles were not going to solve any problems, but I still popped the cork and poured the glass.

So why would any reasonably level-headed, masters educated, smart girl decide to do such a thing?

Sometimes I have so much emotion bottled up inside of me that it seeps out.  It comes out in random crying fits and angry outbursts over silly things and eyerolls.  But sometimes it doesn’t come out at all.  Instead, it gets wrapped up so tightly that it seems like nothing will come out. 

Champagne bubbles might let happy rise to the surface when they are consumed during happy times—weddings and job promotions and seven a.m. airport drinks on the way to a glamorous island. 

But they also numb.  They take the spiraling web of emotions and push them to the back for a while.  The problem is that doesn’t actually solve anything. 

So, today, the wad of emotions was there waiting for me at 5:00 a.m.  It came with enough nervous energy to make me wash dishes.  At 5:00 in the morning.  It managed to stick around all day.  It’s still here sitting with me, messing up my head.

So, the question is, how do we learn to sit with the uncomfortable, twisted anxiety inside that we ultimately KNOW we must deal with?  How do we accept those feelings for what they are, define their roots, and untangle the mess?  

That is not something I have the answer to, but I assure you the answer is not eight mimosas or doing dishes in the wee hours of the morning.

So tonight, instead of numbing my web of emotions with bubbles, I’ll be real.  I will sit with the emotion, just as it is.  Maybe some of it will seep out or maybe it will stay tightly wired together inside my head. 

Either way, I know that tomorrow will bring a new day.  There will be a sunny, balmy desert day waiting for me.  There will be smiling innocent faces willing to give me hugs at work, friends who will stop by my classroom to see if it is a better day, and the promise of new inspiration.

And coffee.  So much coffee.

For today, friends, take my advice.  Skip the mimosas, sit with the twisted ball of emotions, and look for the miraculum.  I promise, it’s there.  And if all else fails…

Be grateful (anyhow), water your own grass (even if it is with tears),

…and drink coffee.

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