Alright y'all, guess what my new calling is? I'd say it's probably what I would have voted "Most Likely to Induce a Full Blown Panic Attack". I am the new Primary President and I was not wrong about it's effect on me. I have so much more sympathy for Matt & his panic attacks now. I get it. Boy, do I get it.
Yesterday was my first Sharing Time. I had things prepared & ready to rock on Saturday night, then decided to run it by Matt as I was worried that it wouldn't catch (and keep) the kids' attention. We had an accord. Plan A was prolly more geared toward the ladies in Relief Society (which is funny cuz that's the calling I was secretly bucking for). Matt & I came up with a fantastic Plan B, but frankly it wasn't really sitting right with me, I couldn't get it to flow in my head & therefore couldn't imagine it going off without me getting sick all over the cute little Sunbeams in the front row. By the time our eleven o'clock Sacrament meeting started I was sweating profusely (in my gorgeous silk J Crew top, no less) and could barely fight the urge to run screaming out the door. Matt convinced me to at least wait until after the Sacrament had been passed to take off, then once it had he quietly packed up all our crap & kids & escorted his looney-tunes wife to the nearest empty classroom for a stern talking to. Now before you judge him (which of course if you had seen President Monson's talk in Women's conference you would never do anyway. How great is the prophet? Honestly. I can't believe I used to not absolutely adore him.) you should know that the past 24 hours of putting up with me had been... let's say "somewhat more challenging than normal". I think I was kinda possessed. Not quite to the level that we needed an exorcist, but close. I was just feeling completely worthless in every single capacity. WORTH.LESS. Incompetent. Stupid. White-trashy. Ugly. Zero short term memory. Bad hair. (oh goodness, horrible hair) Uninteresting. Nothing to contribute to my marriage, my children or anyone else's. Spoiled brat. Socially retarded. Unworthy of every good thing in my life. A person who has made extremely poor choices in her life & probably will do so for the rest of my life. Unable to communicate with her Heavenly Father....
All that & a bag of chips. At one point I even accused my husband of wanting me to be the "screwup" in our marriage. (Because, obviously, there has to be one in every marriage, right? Right?.... No? Oh.)
Apparently my issues are not buried very deeply.
Like I said, "Possessed of a devil."
So back to the stern talking to in room 14. I honestly don't know how the man puts up with me. And the most amazing thing is that he doesn't act like it's a chore, in fact he laughs his way through it, (something that used to anger me greatly). He let me work through my control issues & helped me figure out how I could make the lesson stick in my head & assured me that I was not, in fact, the most horrible excuse for a Primary President to ever walk the face of the earth.
It turned out great, I think, but wow, what a roller coaster. I had a two hour nap after church. Apparently it's exhausting to be that cookoo.
So the two or three of you who still read my ramblings and comment, (I love you Melissa!) don't bother saying "I have never thought you were white trash with bad hair", I'm fine. Things are ok. The moment has passed. I just wanted to document it so that next time it rolls around, I can read this & remember how quickly it passes & that I grow from these little jaunts outside my tiny little comfort zone. So yay for new callings!
(honestly though, you should know that I'm excited to do this calling & that my counselors (and my husband) are angels & are "fully awesome"! I'm so pumped to work with them.