It takes a special kind of arrogance to believe that God takes care of all of his children but me.

It amazes me sometimes that God takes care of me when I’m not looking.

Today was just a harsh day. Self-created. I spent the majority of it inside my head. That is just never good.

The workday was slow… The best part about it was being flipped off from two cubicles away in the middle of the most conservative investment firm in the country. I nearly split a gut. I also enjoyed e-mailing Melissa. However, an added attraction was that I spent a large portion of it nauseous and dizzy. This, for me, is a sure sign of nerves and stress. When I took the time to look around my life, I found several stressors … some of which are not mine.

I planned to jet out of work on time tonight, in order to run to the loft to pick up additional equipment to ship out for Max for our E-bay sales. Soon buyers are going to send someone to break my legs if I don’t get their products out to them. I don’t blame them.

The longer I sat in rush hour traffic, the more upset I got. By the time I reached the loft, I was furious. I slammed my way inside, slammed the equipment around, slammed things into and out of boxes. By the time I’d been there an hour, I had to sit down and have a cigarette before my head exploded or I punched a wall.

Of course, I called Melissa. I was filled with questions along the lines of, “Why the fuck do I bother with this?” and, “Why am I so taken for granted?” Melissa just kept agreeing with me and letting me vent. Reason #627 she’s a great friend. By the time I let her off the phone, I was worked into a fit. I was sweaty, smelly, and completely livid. I dumped all the equipment in front of the doorway and left.

That’ll teach him, I thought. Take me for granted again. Why do I bother spending every spare minute working on his shit?

I got home and changed and put in “Lethal Weapon 3.” I giggled and snorted through half of it (I just love the scene where Riggs meets Lorna Cole of “Infernal Repairs” for the first time). Then the guilt just ate me alive. I called Melissa, who in her wisdom told me to do what gives me peace.

So, dammit, at 8:30pm I was headed back to the loft. I had promised Max I’d take care of the sales stuff - I had made a commitment. I was going to complete it - as tired and stressed as I am.

I turned on all the auxillary lights and lit all the candles. I grabbed one of his 6,000 legal pads and turned on the space heaters. I laid down in the middle of the floor. And I started writing. I knew Max was headed out of town tomorrow, so he wouldn’t be at the loft at all. I wrote, and wrote, and wrote. It was like a quick purging.

Questions like, why do I get so angry? And who exactly am I angry with? And why? Why can I not be gentler with Max? And he with me?

Half an hour later or so, the key turned in the door. Max.

He’s not going out of town after all, apparently. We sat on the sofa and had a cigarette. And he started picking at me. I look like I’m in a bad mood, he says - why? I just wasn’t feeling glued-together enough to talk. But he kept picking until I told him. A lot of it. How I was completely resentful about doing his business stuff. About how I needed help. His response?: What can I do?

Doubtfully, I asked him to help get the stuff shipped. He readily agreed. I was a little surprised. We started talking about the stuff stressing me out. How I have such a difficult time being gentle with him, specifically. Ending a job I adore. Going on a trip I can’t afford, that Melissa paid for and I now owe her for. Having money concerns - big ones. Starting to study 40 hrs/wk for a regulatory exam I have one chance to pass or I have no job. Being tired and overworked, just generally by my life. I told him I felt like I was whining. But at one point I broke down in tears. I’ve been holding so much of it in, and I just can’t do that anymore.

His recommendation on the trip was to cancel it, or let Mel go alone. I was flabbergasted. He said it’s not fair of me to be under such stress to pay it back, and it’s not fair to our friendship if it’s going to stress it like this. Even though most of the stress is in my head, he pointed out that Mel and I are still straight-up business about money. Resentments building, again.

He also gently reminded me that God takes care of those who look to him with their problems - money or otherwise.

By the time we finished talking - at a healthy hour this time - I felt refreshed. I tend to let things build up in my head until they are the size of “22 Mt. Everests” (Max-ism) when really, they just aren’t.

I left the loft with a lighter heart. Still have boxes to pack and equipment to ship. Still have money issues. Still sad about leaving my job. Still wondering how I’ll pay Melissa back sometime before 2002. But Max is right. The answer is God.

And, look. He took care of me when I thought he’d forgotten all about me. He gives me what I need just when I need it, and not a moment earlier or later. And I don’t deserve a bit of it. But I’m learning how to appreciate it now.

Redefining,

michelle