39 Hours

I was having a really hard time sleeping. I would be exhausted, but I’d lie in bed for hours, unable to force my mind or body to settle. My mind would circle endlessly, focusing on nothing and everything all at once. My eyes refused to close, just scanning the darkness. Eventually I’d fall asleep, but it was a restless one. Frustrated, I found myself writing in my journal one night that maybe I needed to just stay awake all night and reset. I, completely unintentionally, did just that a few nights later.

It started with an infuriating attempt at untangling some embroidery floss for a tiny crochet project I was doing. It came wrapped in such a way that it was impossible to use it without it getting knotted at some point, so in an attempt to avoid that in the middle of the project, I decided to roll it into a ball ahead of time. I had almost gotten it completely untangled when my tired mind made one wrong move and it was knotted again. I decided to go to bed. 12. I read a couple chapters in my book. 1. Then I lay there, eyes wide open, no indication of sleep. 2. So I proceeded to finish my book and move on to the next one. 4. I heard mom get ready to leave for work. 5. I had some splintered sleep amounting to about an hour, but that was it. 7. I heard dad get ready for work. 8. I had stayed up all night.

I surprised myself by not completely crashing that day. No nap, no going to bed early. I was actually kind of productive. I was tired, but productive. 39 hours. By the time I went to bed that night I had been awake for 39 hours. And you know what happened? I slept great that night, and every night since.

It sounds crazy. When you think of a reset, you think of rest. Taking time to let your body take a break from the business of life and rest. But that’s not what my body was asking for. My body was asking for a night with no sleep. A day of running on empty and making it work. Then, instead of fighting against my body to go to bed that night, I could actually have a restful sleep and wake refreshed the next day.

Sometimes the ways our bodies need to reset don’t make much sense. One person’s way of resetting might look different than someone else’s. Some people may need multiple days to recover from things while others may need no time at all. Sometimes your body needs rest, sometimes it actually needs more activity. Sometimes it takes 39 hours of sleep and rest, and sometimes it takes 39 hours of being awake to find some normalcy again.

The Cracks That Divide Us

 

The ball bounces across the court. I run to catch it, jumping over the cracks in the pavement. And then I notice this one crack spans the whole length of the court. Stretching farther than I can clearly see. And then there are these little cracks branching off of it, splitting in all different directions. I know they probably didn’t happen all at once. And they’re probably not done growing either. They started with one little injury that spread until you could no longer see where it began or where it ended. And that, ironically, was exactly why I was on that basketball court. Shooting some hoops to clear my head and boost my mood. Wanting to be alone while simultaneously hoping someone would see me down there and come see if I wanted company.

I knew this particular job was going to be difficult. It was not the best environment for me, but I came in hopeful I’d be wrong. It didn’t go wrong all at once. Just a weird look here, a rumor started there, an odd comment thrown in for good measure. Little things, both from myself and from others, that slowly built into big cracks, splitting any small relationship we had before it even started. That seems to happen to me a lot. Friendships, work relationships, family. It’s never just one thing. It always starts with just one little hit, one tiny shake after another, until you have a crack, splitting into a dozen other little cracks, and before you know it there’s a canyon between you that you don’t remember being there.

So then what? Is there any hope of fixing these relationships? Well, I believe there’s always hope if both people want it bad enough. And the basketball court wasn’t done teaching lessons. In the veins of this crack on the basketball court there’s one that is now filled in with sand. The reminder of the crevice that once was is still there, but the sand has formed a scar. And peeking through this scar are some plants, bringing new life and growth, bringing further healing.

So, perhaps there is hope. Maybe if enough sand and seeds, kindness, truth, honesty, prayer, can be piled into the cracks that divide us, maybe we can heal the canyons. Maybe we can fix these relationships. Or at least we’ll have a smoother basketball court.

Life Lessons From A Squirrel

 

It was Squirrel Appreciation Day. Mom was the first downstairs that morning and found someone who didn’t belong sitting on this ceramic hippo we have in the living room. A squirrel, ironically. Now, we’ve had mice in our house for as long as I can remember, just comes with living in an old farmhouse. We tend to get a bat or two in august and send them back outside where they belong. I don’t remember ever having a squirrel, though. So, as usual when we have an unwanted critter in the house, I found myself praying for God to send this squirrel back outside where it belongs.

The next morning I found it jumping around the kitchen table. It had eaten the bait out of the have a heart trap (without setting it off) and was looking for more food. Later it tried to get out a window but was so impatient we couldn’t get it open without scaring it off. Then I was cutting apples to make an apple pie and I see its little head pop up on the shelf, smelling the yummy apples. It found the apple in the trap and once again scampered off with it without it closing. After reengineering the trap so it would actually close, we did finally catch it, but as dad went to take it outside it managed to squeeze back out of the flimsy cage. I found myself talking to the rascally little critter, “don’t you realize we’re trying to help you?” I’d ask, “don’t you want to go back outside where you belong?” And then, as usual when something crazy like this happens in my life, I realized people act just like this squirrel.

God created squirrels to live outside. They eat nuts and fruit and live in trees. They are meant to live happy, healthy, little squirrel lives. They were never meant to live inside with humans. Never supposed to live off peanut butter they manage to chew the cover off of or resort to chewing on things like candy or processed food like uncivilized mice. It isn’t good for them. And it isn’t good for them to live in hiding, they’re meant to scamper and play with their little squirrel friends, leaving all those snowy footprints I see circling around the backyard. At first this squirrel of ours seemed to want to go outside, trying to get out the window, it knew it didn’t belong here. But the longer it stayed the more it seemed to be content just living up on our kitchen shelf. It became comfortable with something it was never created to be comfortable with. And it was scared of the very people who were trying to help it get back where it belonged.

In much the same way, people drift from who and where they’re supposed to be. God created us with a purpose. He gave us a body, mind, and soul to take care of in order to fulfil that purpose. But what happens when we get ourselves stuck somewhere we don’t belong? Like this squirrel in the house? Sometimes we might get ourselves out right away, we know it’s wrong and correct the situation immediately. Or sometimes it feels wrong at first, but the more time we spend in the situation, the less wrong it feels. That sharp pang of our God given conscience telling us to get out eventually dulls to an insignificant whisper.

All too often I watch people, and myself, get more and more comfortable being where we don’t belong. Eating food we shouldn’t be, exposing our minds to things we should stay away from, being in relationships that pull us away from God instead of bringing us towards Him, living in situations we should’ve never gotten into in the first place, getting addicted to things that aren’t healthy for our minds, bodies, or souls. And the more we get comfortable with those things, the more we push away God and the very people who just want to help. The more comfortable we become with what’s wrong, the more what’s right starts to feel wrong and uncomfortable.

God created us to be happy and healthy people. He wants us to have healthy minds that can think and create, healthy bodies to be his hands and feet, and healthy souls to keep Him in the middle of it. He doesn’t want us in situations He didn’t create us for. He doesn’t want us to become comfortable with things He never intended for us. And He certainly never meant for us to try to fight the temptation of these things alone. He puts people in our lives to steer us in the right direction and help us out of the bad situations we’ve become all too comfortable with.

Eventually we did finally catch that squirrel and send it back outside where it belongs. It took a lot of time and patience, but we did succeed. And coming back to where we belong, or helping someone we love find their way back, might take some time and patience too. Will you take a step back with me and make sure we’re where God says we belong? You might just find you’re a squirrel stuck in a house you were never meant to be in.

Mad As A Hatter

My obsession with the Mad Hatter started long ago. I loved watching different interpretations of the Lewis Carrol character and soon started creating my own version. I’d create my own costumes, grow my hat collection, he would find his way into much of my writing, and I’d even have an Alice In Wonderland themed birthday party that was the most elaborate party I think I’ve ever had (I was the Mad Hatter of course) But it wasn’t just a love of the eccentric character that had me intrigued, there was much more going on below the surface.

Around the same time, I found a love for the Mad Hatter I also started having some mental health issues. I didn’t put the two together at the time, and I wouldn’t take my mental health problems seriously until much much later, but I realize now they were connected.

I am autistic, self-diagnosed, but it’s still valid. I had suspected for years but didn’t take it seriously until recently. Looking back, I realize that my mental health issues stem from my autism making college very difficult. School was never very enjoyable for me, but going from homeschooling to college was a challenge. Not academically, I feel being homeschooled really prepared me for that, but socially. And before you go saying “homeschoolers aren’t socialized enough” it wasn’t that either. I had friends, good friends, but none of them came from college. The fake college relationships were where I was having issues. Trying to fit in, being exposed to behaviors that were morally wrong, being surrounded by people who had no intention of creating real lasting relationships. It was all very overwhelming for my autistic mind to handle. What does this all have to do with the Mad Hatter? Well, much like a trip through Wonderland, I promise we’ll get there eventually, it just might take a few twists and turns.

When an autistic person ignores the warning signs their body is putting out it can become a very real problem very quickly. I started having mental breakdowns. Times when I lost control of reality. Maybe I’d cry for no reason, or lose control of my body and end up on the floor without being sure how I got there, or find myself lying on the floor laughing uncontrollably. Sometimes it was scary, sometimes it was a minor inconvenience before moving on to “real life” again, always it was disorienting and confusing. I spent years trying to figure out what caused them, or at least know the signs so I could avoid them. In the midst of all this was when I became obsessed with the Mad Hatter. See? Told you we’d get there.

As my mental health grew… weirder… I couldn’t help but compare myself to the Mad Hatter. I had always been eccentric, especially as a child, I loved hats, his style was much like mine, and I always saw myself as a little strange. I realized later I had been suppressing all that, likely leading to the outbursts, but the only explanation I could come up with for my behavior at the time was… well… I had to ask myself “have I gone mad?” but according to the book “the best people usually are” so I rolled with it and, instead of calling my episodes “mental breakdowns,” I started saying I was “going into Mad Hatter mode.” It seemed appropriate, don’t you think?

Soon my friends knew what I meant when I said I was “going Mad Hatter" and they did their best to help me get through it or, sometimes, avoid it all together. For the most part though, I was on my own and had to learn to just embrace it. It was part of life now. And the Mad Hatter love, and trouble, continued.

Now I know my Mad Hatter mode is when my autistic mind is begging for a break. Its appearance meant I had missed the signs leading up to it and my outbursts were my body literally screaming for stimulation and attention. It was my body asking to be normal, even if my normal was a bit stranger than anyone else’s. I’m doing a better job of listening before it gets that far now, but it is still a work in progress. At least I know I’m not going mad, not completely anyway.

Sometimes I wonder if maybe the Mad Hatter wasn’t truly mad, but just misunderstood, stuck in a world that didn’t understand him for far too long. Perhaps I am more like the Mad Hatter then I realize. When I think about it, my journey through Wonderland really helped me find myself again, helped me get back to that eccentric little girl who disappeared somewhere along the way. The Mad Hatter is certainly inside me now, the good parts and bad. The eccentric style is no longer hidden, my spinning mind is no longer fought against but instead just redirected (for the most part), my love of color and hats of every kind is on full display, and I’m not nearly as afraid to speak my mind and hold to the truth, even if it leads to a solitary life consisting only of my fellow mad tea party friends. The episodes of uncontrollable emotions have slowed down now that I’ve stopped suppressing the eccentric behavior and just let myself be myself. Being the Mad Hatter helped me make sense of a world that doesn’t make sense, a world much like the one the Mad Hatter tells us of.

"There is a place, like no place on earth. A land full of wonder, mystery, and danger. Some say, to survive it, you need to be as mad as a hatter. Which, luckily, I am."