They Said It'll Never be More Than You Can Handle

Am I the only person who wonders who "They" are?

People repeat different placative phrases all the time. Those phrases often begin with "they".

"They say life is supposed to be hard."

"They say that it's worth it in the end."

"They say it could always get worse before it gets better."

"They say you'll never get more than you can handle."

So who is, collectively, "They", and where can I go to smack "Them" around for a little while?

I went to an open house for a departing missionary on Saturday night. I have been struggling with anxiety and depression for the last two weeks. When I say struggling, I mean it's been hard to find a reason to get out of bed before 2:00PM. I'd been rallying so that I could slap a smile on because I am so proud of this young man. SO, so proud, and I wanted him to know that I'm in his corner one hundred percent. So I got up, got dressed, put on make-up, fixed my hair, and made a real effort.

I casually perused social media as I procrastinated my shower that afternoon. (I never said I got out of bed earlier than usual that day.) As I perused, I found that ANOTHER person I knew sneezed and was pregnant. Of course, five million cries of joy sounded across Facebook, the Heavens opened, and all of Mormondom rejoiced together. Because that's what we do. We are culturally programed to rejoice when people reproduce naturally.

I made a snide comment to my husband, got in the shower, and cried for 20 minutes. Because that's what real people do.

As I was finishing my make-up, I got a FaceTime call from my niece. She's a doll, and she has helped me stay sane for many years now. I stopped what I was doing and talked to her for a few minutes. As we were talking, she told me, very excitedly, that her aunt, my sister-in-law's sister, is having a baby. I told her that I had heard, changed the subject, and (I still feel guilty for doing this) started to look away and finish my eyeliner. I ignored my five-year-old niece because I couldn't handle it. Luckily, she asked to talk to Uncle Scott shortly after that.

After she hung up, and I had a fresh face of make-up, great hair, and my cute outfit for this open house, I said, "I'm fine. I'm ready. We can't be late. Let's go." Scott told me to talk. I cried and threw things and told him I couldn't ruin my make-up. Because that's what real people do.

We went to the open house, and things were going swimmingly. I talked to people I knew, made jokes (because if people are laughing there's no time to be serious), and ate way too much bad food (because food makes everything better). I had gone into the front room to meet one of Scott's former bosses and got to talking with people  in there when a couple with the cutest little girl walked in. I quickly recognized them, I had been her visiting teacher when she was newly divorced with three little kids, and I went to high school with his older brother. Their baby was enchanted by my paper cup, so I played with her. Luckily, they didn't stay too long. Rations were running low, so I put myself to work in the kitchen. Because that's what real people do.

I looked in my friend's fridge to see if there was any Dr. Pepper anywhere. I couldn't find any. I looked in her cupboard as well. Nothing. I thought of escaping and buying some. I ate more chocolate peanut better Rice Krispie treats. I sent Scott to ask her if she had a secret stash of the juice. Because that's what people do.

When she found me and gave me a bottle of DP, she took me back to the front room to talk. As I told her that I secretly hate people who sneeze and get pregnant all while being enchanted by their children, I fell apart. Because that's what real people do.

I went to LA the next day to see my dear friends bless their baby boy. They thought he would never come.  We went to lunch, we went to Malibu and I felt the wind on my face and smelled the sea salt and cried at the heavens. Because that's what real people do.

On the way home, I stopped and visited a dear friend. We met our freshman year of High School. She is the sweetest, kindest, most guileless person I have ever met. When people drove me crazy and I wanted to kick them off the quad, she was the first to say, "She has no where else to go. Just let her stay," When I told her not to accept a date to prom with the creepy guy who tried to blow up the school later that year, she told me, "I can't turn him down. He needs a friend right now." She has been through hell and back this last year. She is rebuilding her life from scratch. When I tell her I'm willing to punch, kick, castrate, and take other extraordinary measures, she responds, "I'm at peace with it. But I do need a big favor. Can you help with my taxes?" And she thinks she's asking for peace in the Middle East. I quietly say, "I will do your taxes for as long as you need me to do them."

She never asks about "They." She didn't once say, "Why is this happening?" She just asked for help with her taxes.

I woke up this morning and had started bleeding. A lot. I called my doctor, hoping to hear that it was normal. Instead I heard, "Can you come in tomorrow at 8:30AM?" When I saw the blood, my first thought was, They said it'll never be more than you can handle. This is more than I can handle.

"They" lie. Sometimes life is more than you can handle. Sometimes it is overwhelming. If someone says it's not, THEY are not a real person. Real people face insurmountable odds. They defy those odds. That's why "They" say that we never get more than we can handle.

Sometimes there isn't a choice. Sometimes life is sink or swim. Sometimes it's a choice to be Marlin or Dory. Be the control freak or dance in your underwear because that's the only option. So go buy some fun underwear because those will be the big girl panties that will help you swim.