Why is it easier for the person who just had a meltdown to say, “Today’s a new day.”? I know it’s not always true. And I tend to hang on to stuff and play the story over and over until it becomes a brand new story designed to fit the needs of the moment.

Fit the needs of me, myself and I. Totally. And as it should be, right? Ok, Maybe not.

I’ll admit I am an expert at taking life much too seriously. Especially the little things. Like I’m really good at emotionally destroying a small situation. But then wisely handle serious situations. It would be nice to flip it upside down. Some days.

Some days.

Somewhere along the way, my brain misinterpreted everything. The small things are taken seriously and never forgotten. The big stuff is calmly dealt with like a game of Black Jack and then the deck is disposed of.

Or maybe it’s my gift.

Example of something small destroyed: The morning of Thanksgiving a green bean casserole was being prepared while breakfast was going to happen within the next couple of hours. I ranted about how it was an example of me being ignored and about how the person preparing it was a liar. “You said you weren’t going to make a green bean casserole! We talked about breakfast this morning! You are such a liar and you never listen to me!” As I stomped around with my hair looking like birds had entangle themselves in it.

Example of something big treated with grace: I was in Vegas when the shootings happened. I calmly witnessed the sadness. I witnessed the immense amount of love pouring out from everyone’s hearts. I drove to the mountains. I spent time with nature. I spoke with the deer. Spiritual and soulful reactions and actions.

Am I on to something?

Being human can be quite mundane at times. Sleep. Wake. Eat. Urinate. Ruminate. Defecate. Exfoliate. Over and over. To alleviate the mundane, I get a thought wheel going in my head and it spins out of control until I am redirected. I rarely take action. I’ll say something feebly, “Hey, it would be really nice to move out of this house to a place that is not surrounded by 4 highways and have aircraft flying overhead.” Rant a little bit about how it’s killing me. Then go away for a few days, detox and then return for further punishment.

Is that what meltdowns are? A detox? Visualize bits of chocolate slowing melting in a pot. If the heat stays low and the chocolate is patiently stirred, it becomes a sauce or a substance in which to dip treats and cover them with. Or if the heat turns up high and the cook steps away, the chocolate burns and is useless.

That’s what life feels like sometimes. Useless.

Useless replay.

Or is it?

Maybe replay is the purpose of life. Replay it over and over and over until there are 10 million views. Perhaps then the energy of the story dissipates enough so that the sadness transforms. Replay it over and over until the views turn into a revenue from which the creator thrives.

Let’s get back to the soulful reactions and actions when something big happens. Perhaps that is the purpose of life. To witness the world’s sadness and love. To gracefully turn to nature and communicate soul to soul.

This is a bit random. And a stream of consciousness.

Detox. Meltdown. Whatever. Maybe I’ll start thinking of it as melting butter to make the popcorn taste great. The meltdown isn’t a detox but a topping. A flavorful addition to my life.

Why, after a detox or a meltdown, do I return for more of the same? Is there a greater purpose in the return? Show up in the chaos as a newborn? It’s rather disgusting. But at the same time heroic. Reprieved from the battle and return rejuvenated to take on the beast.

A warrior in action. That I am.

A boxing or wrestling match. Sometimes the amateur. Sometimes the pro. Every time it is good for a bit of entertainment.