A couple weeks ago, I came down with a stomachache.
The kind that makes you wonder what in the world was growing in whatever you had for lunch.
After trying to keep a stiff upper lip at work and conduct business as usual, I finally decided it would be better just to explain the pained expression on my face, rather than have anyone think I was reacting to something they had said or done.
We humans tend to make assumptions like that.
The humans I was working with told me there was some kind of stomach bug going around.
That’s reassuring to hear when all you really want to do is curl up until it’s over. At least you probably haven’t eaten anything that’s likely to kill you.
Eventually, they convinced me to call it a day and go home. It didn’t take too much convincing.
It wasn’t the way I’d planned to end the day, but getting under the weather did result in some unforeseen benefits.
Besides the obvious chance to have the pained expression on my face in private, the brief slowdown gave me a chance to regroup. I made some changes to my schedule, allowed a little more time to get things done, and emerged from my battle with the bug with more motivation and energy than would be expected from just getting over a virus.
It made me almost grateful for having gotten sick. Almost.
I even wondered if there might sometimes be an upside to catching the occasional bug. Kind of a wake-up call — a warning that it’s time to hit the reset button, to make some changes before you really wear yourself out.
Not the most pleasant way of going about it, granted, but at least a way to glean something positive out of the situation.
That observation reminded me of another similar occasion, many years ago, involving three cars, one of which I was driving.
The holidays were upon us, I was hurrying to get the baby to play school and get a list of errands run before racing to an office party in the next county.
It’s a good thing I hadn’t actually gotten to the racing part yet, because that would have increased the impact when the other car swerved into my lane.
Seems the other driver was trying to avoid hitting a third car that had pulled out in front of her.
The perpetrator was the only one of the three of us whose car was not involved. And being a decent sort, she stopped and told the police exactly how she inadvertently set up the entire situation.
And once the initial shock had passed, it dawned upon me that with one bad decision on the part of one honest driver, my long to-do list didn’t matter anymore.
Someone made me a cup of tea and encouraged me to sit down and take a deep breath.
Someone called the insurance company. Someone picked up the baby from play school.
No one asked me to run any more errands that day, or pick up anything, or be anywhere.
It was almost enough to make me breathe a sigh of relief.
There was a lesson to be learned from that experience, but it didn’t really take. Instead of taking steps to make my life less hectic, like I did when the bug came to visit a few weeks ago, I went back to thinking that I should, or even could, hold the world together.
I was just grateful for a brief interlude from the chaos, thanks to a head-on collision.
Nobody should ever be that busy.
Julia Cochran is a licensed professional counselor in Rincon and a psychology instructor at Armstrong Atlantic State University. She can be reached at 912-772-3072 or by email at JCochranPhD@GileadCounseling.com. Any opinions expressed here are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of Armstrong Atlantic State University.