Tuesday morning I observed Wep Ronpet, and how I managed to not burn down the house is a mystery to me. Almost everything that could go wrong did. Water spills, incense not lighting, candles not lighting that should have, natron spilling, cascading statues– or maybe they were jumping ship–you name it. I’ve had bad rituals before. Anyone who has been on this type of path has at least one bad ritual. Mishaps are common. This bad ritual took the cake and a good chunk of my patience. That wasn’t the worst part.
The grand finale came after all my rituals. A cup of coffee I had on my craft desk got knocked over. Almost everything got drenched on top of the desk, my cellphone in a compartment got hit (after a day in rice it works again), books ruined, and all I could do was stare. The only silver lining is my computer’s harrowing escape from the coffee inundation and how no library books were in the flood plain. When I found my cellphone wasn’t working right and have to listen to family call me a loser behind my back. I lost it and was too exhausted to care. I’m self-soothing as I type.
It’s funny because I had originally intended to write about starting a new stage of life, about something to anticipate. I’m not going to lie and say these events put a huge damper on it. I was going to write about the new hopes for employment, or at least my etsy store taking off. Either way being able to pay my bills would be nice for a change. I’m angry and out of patience at this point with everyone and everything. After some poor sleep and a failed attempt to improve my mood (though chocolate and hugs helped a bunch) I decided to examine my emotional exhaustion. These past few years have been very unkind to me in almost every way and is only compounded by my anxiety disorder. Trying to create a peaceful life has been a challenge, and one that sometimes I can’t meet. Days like this one really strike a blow to trying to live a peaceful life.
On days where I fall flat on my face all I can do it get up. I pull out the proverbial toolkit and examine the situation. I understand I reacted the way I did not just to a ritual gone awry or the coffee inundation. I’ve found after some contemplation that like my views on grief, I find stress is cumulative. I’m not stressing about coffee inundations alone. I’m stressing about everything going on in my life and my focus was that stressor.