"I got your text. When you’re going through a 'Taylor Swift-like range of emotions,' I should come over, right?"

“Shit,” I said, as I barreled down I-5 on my way to Seattle. “I forgot my wallet.” 

Normally, this would be no big deal. Usually when I’m in the car, I’m with Joe, who is very responsible and always has his wallet, or I’m on the way somewhere I don’t really NEED a wallet, like the beach or a hike or a place to look at ducks. This time, though, I was on the way to my physical therapy appointment, which is in a building surrounded by absolutely NO STREET PARKING (COME ON) so you have to park in their parking garage or...nowhere. They don’t charge high rates or anything (that would be super rude to do to a bunch of cancer patients) but it still costs SOME money. It was too late for me to go back and get my wallet, I was pretty sure I didn’t have any money in my bag, and I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. So I did the only thing I could think of. I started crying. 

I think we can all agree that there are just some days when everything seems harder. That’s just...life, I guess. And while all of my days have felt like that in some capacity since, oh, last August or so, the past couple of days have felt especially hard. There’s no real reason for this, other than I somehow hurt my back (probably from exercising...THANKS A LOT, BEING HEALTHY) and yesterday it was difficult to sit, reach for things, lift my water, and breathe (it turns out you have to breathe A LOT during the day). It’s much better today, though it still hurt enough this morning to put me in a pretty deep funk, causing everything to feel much harder than it really was or needed to be. And no amount of trying to logic my way out of it was helping. 

After I had my little crybaby meltdown over my forgotten wallet, I felt better. Which, it turns out, makes sense because of science. I’ve been reading a book my lovely sister-in-law got me for Christmas about burnout (thanks, Julie!) and it turns out I have it, you guys. Go figure. Anyway, in the book they talk a lot about completing the stress cycle, and how we as human people don’t do that enough (or ever), especially women because we’re taught to be diplomatic and ladylike and easy breezy (beautiful COVER GIRL) and quiet all the time (ask Joe if that’s true OH WAIT you can’t because he’s laughing too loud to hear you). 

Long story short (ha!), when you experience stress, you’re supposed to finish the cycle so your body knows it can go back to being calm and living life without being all hyped up about almost being eaten by a lion (it makes more sense in the book, you should read it). You can complete this cycle in lots of different ways. The best is physical exertion. Even jumping up and down for a short period of time helps (thanks again for the trampoline, mom and dad!). But crying counts, too. So from now on, I’m going to look at crying as something productive I’m doing. Something I can cross off the old To Do list. Look at how much I accomplished today! I cried five times! (No I didn’t, not really, I’m fine, I promise). 

When I got to my appointment, after worrying the entire time that I was going to get trapped in the parking garage for the rest of my life, I found a parking space (which was my other worry, this garage fills up ALL THE TIME and if my appointment is too late in the morning, I have to drive around forever and hope that a spot opens up), and started digging through the car for loose change. When I opened the center console, the first thing I saw were some pennies and I just thought, “Oh well done, Jennie, that’ll save the day,” and then I saw a flash of gold (TREASURE). And there, buried beneath some crumpled papers, CD cases (YES I’M OLD), and a couple of dog leashes (what, you never know when you might find a stray dog), were two Sacagawea dollars, the exact amount I needed to get out of the parking garage after my appointment. 

I have no idea where these came from. I have no memory of receiving these and throwing them in there. Who knows how long they’ve been buried, just waiting to be unearthed by a desperate woman prone to hysterical crying at the drop of a NOTHING? But they were there when I needed them. It was yet another reminder that I need to calm down and let the universe take care of me sometimes, because it turns out I can’t control everything, up to and including whether or not I remember to put my wallet in my bag.