Falling into a swirling whirlpool

I’ve been in a crazy downward swirl lately.

—I put my wallet down and two minutes later I can’t remember where I put it. I ask my wife where the cell phone cord is that she just gave me. She looks at me strange. Of course, it’s in my hand. “Duh, how’d that get there.”

—I’m scatter-brained. One minute I give my wife an update on a work issue I’m having. Without missing a beat, I switch topics, going on a 10-minute rant on huge companies like PepsiCo and General Mills that have raised prices everyday consumers, blaming the increases on inflation. I tell her that these same companies have handed out generous increases for their shareholders. “What gives?” I ask. I stop only to let my wife know that the restaurant we like on Penn Street has reopened and we need to check it out. “Oh look at the shiny object in the corner.”

—I can’t write to save my life. While usually not a problem, since I work ahead on my blog, it doesn’t help much when I’m trying to work on my novel and need to crank out more than 1,500 words a day. I think to myself, “Um, Brian get it together.”

Putting my finger on it

Oh, I have a lot going right now at work and home. And yes, Donald Trump’s rise from the ashes back to the Presidency last week threw me off. I’ve never been a fan of the way Trump plays with the truth and wasn’t happy with the result. I worry about the poor and vulnerable in our society. I am concerned about how they’ll be treated over the next four years. However, my funk has been more than that. It’s been coming on for awhile.

I wouldn’t say I’ve been depressed, but I haven’t been on my game either. I’ve been like a car that’s making a lot of strange noises. I’ll drive down the block fine and then I’ll shimmy and shake and start to sputter. When the car feels like it’s going to stall out, it peps up and continues on its way. So when my wife went out Saturday to give me some time to myself, I got excited about the chance to give my make-believe car a tune-up and oil change.

Right on cue, our 15-year-old dog, Nittany, decided she wanted had other ideas in mind. She wanted to take a little stroll through the yard. I was mad as Hell. She couldn’t chose another time? I wanted to just tell her no, but Nittany looked up at me with the saddest face.

I looked down and swore at her, but, yes, of course, I caved.

And how did she reward my generosity? She went for a long walk, looking up every few seconds with a face that said, “what’s this? And this? And this?” Oh, she gets let out in the same patch of grass every day. Yet, for some reason, it was as fascinating as a new book. I knew I had lost.

Finding my place

I sat down on our front porch swing dejected. I closed my eyes and rocked back and forth. While I liked the warm sun on my face, I felt uncomfortable sitting on the swing. I kept opening my eyes and shooting her a death glare. I considered grabbing her, whether she had done her business or not, and getting back to my list of to-dos. “I need to get shit done Nittany,” I yelled to her. She never even looked up.

I felt uneasy, but another feeling told me to keep my eyes shut. I was exactly where I needed.

Five minutes passed and then five minutes more. If I couldn’t win, I thought maybe I should join her. I got up and led Nittany to the woods that sits next to our back yard. It was a rare treat for her. I looked at the mess of leaves I had just raked, but needed to rake again. The leaves rattled under my feet. They were dead as dead can be. I found one or two though that had just fallen from a tree. They were a fascinating color of red and yellow.

I picked one up in my hand and looked at it closely. The leaf reminded me that we expect life to be planned and consistent. But, oh, it likes to give us a surprise. Life often likes to turn left when we expect it to turn right. We expect the leaves in the yard to stay where we put them. The wind has other ideas in mind. It shoots them up in the air this way and that, without a care in the world.

It’s just like Nittany. She takes life minute by minute. She doesn’t worry about tomorrow’s battles. She focuses on the here and now. Sometimes things don’t go the way she wants. Sometimes she doesn’t get that juicy treat, but she doesn’t let it get her down.

She just keeps plugging away. (She keeps on begging for the next one.)

Yes, keep plugging away

When I finally got back to my desk, I worked on my novel. Time seemed to race by and my free time was over before I knew it. I felt a myriad of feelings, but somehow I was calmer. Nittany’s little jaunt through the yard reminded me that life is less about our worries and struggles. It’s more about resilience and how we rise up to meet our challenges.

• So I’ve been a little scattered lately, so be it.
• So I’ve been a little vulnerable to the people who love me, so be it.
• So I’ve been off my game and others have been able to see through the mirage that we all like to present to the public . . . well, so be it.

In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t really matter. I was reminded it’s best to forgive myself, forget about the “crap,” and keep plugging away. Yes, pick myself up and forget about everything else.

. . . .

“Life doesn’t get easier or more forgiving, we get stronger and more resilient.” —Steve Maraboli

“Do not judge me by my success, judge me by how many times I fell down and got back up again.” —Nelson Mandela

“Sometimes you have to stop to think, regroup and regather yourself and realize how lucky you are to still be living and to still be breathing and still be able to even have a chance.” —Ciera

“It may sound strange, but many champions are made champions by setbacks.” —Bob Richards