I have hit my wall

This morning... I did this to the truck. Tundra

And I lost it. I sobbed like a little baby and called LB with shaking hands and a quivering voice. My first thought, "LB is gonna kill me." My second, "How could you be so stupid?" So, I am having a really bad day 2 weeks before my wedding. Whatever this repair bill is going to cost... well, we don't have it. And beyond the money, we don't have the time. I don't have the time. I am embarassed, and ashamed that I thought this annoyingly huge truck could make that sharp of a left turn in a parking garage. I even stopped and thought... hmmm this might not fit. But because THAT parking garage is only $8 a day and not $18, I forged ahead and into the wall. The literal and figurative one.

I cried telling LB. I cried when he texted me saying it wasn't a huge deal and we would figure it out and he loves me. I cried when I got one emailed estimate back of "between $2000 and $4000." I cried when I realized I have to leave work early to go to the orthodontist to get my braces tightened and that will leave me roughly 2 hours to run around like a crazy person trying to get more quotes on how much this is going to cost me.

I have hit my wall people. I can't stress about LB getting his list done for the wedding, or about this blog, or about work, or about anything else right now. I am THERE. You know, THAT place. The place where all your dark thoughts about yourself hang out? Yup, I have just unpacked my bags in THAT place and am hanging out there for a while it seems. The only other recent times that I have like this are: 1. When my brother died. 2. When I was 2 weeks away from the bar exam.

I am so mad at myself. I have hit my wall. My limits are exhausted. This sucks. And sometimes there is nothing more poetic or true than saying, "Yup. This sucks."

Washington and Oregon

I grew up in one and LB grew up in the other. Seattle is where my mangled roots of a family began (and ended for me) and Portland is that for LB. We are PNW people at heart, but hate the rain so we will never live there full-time again. In spite of my rainy weather phobia, I know every back road south of Seattle and LB's got the whole I-5 corridor on lock. Canby and Salem are the places where we spend Christmases because it is too much for me to be back in Seattle sometimes (honestly, 99% of the time). I instantly get all anxious whenever I go home-- there is just too much pain/sadness/anger/confusion there for me. As Ashley said when we were in Washington for my brother's funeral, "There is no healing left here for you to do."  And yet, to have two school shootings in my two states within a week of each other, leaves me feeling all the more anxious/sad about going "home" for my bridal shower this weekend. By the time you read this, I will have flown into Seattle, driven down to Portland, and be gearing up for the final hour drive down to Salem for the shower. At the rate things are going, it is highly possible that by the time you read this, there will be another innocent taken from a sacred place: a school. Why is this not more unsettling for us? Kids killing kids. KILLING. MURDERING. Taking away people's babies. I used to be a teacher in a pretty rough school. Heck, I even had an eighth grader look me straight in the eye from down the hallway and tell one of my students, "I am gonna kill that white b*tch." And yet, I showed up to teach everyday because my kids needed me to. Even though there were days when I was afraid. Even though a few kids were already gang involved and, in Arizona, almost all of their parents had guns.

I've read two blog posts this week where mommas pray that it not be their kids. Is that enough? Is it enough to pray that it is not your kid when ALL OF US, every single one of us, will have to send our babies to school one day? When there are teachers who go into classrooms EVERYDAY facing this fear?

I am not answering the myriad of questions in this post because to do so would require a level of intelligence and insight that I do not possess. And not just because I am not a momma yet. But because somehow, kids being shot at school turns into a gun debate instead of a national travesty and a cohesive call to action. It is not political in the same way that health care is not political (what a loaded word, political).

The question really is this 1990s gem: what would Jesus do about kids shooting kids and what would Jesus do about health care? Religion aside, do we or do we not have a moral obligation to take care of EVERYONES babies, momma, dads, and grandmas? Do we have an obligation to do everything we can to keep EVERYONES babies safe regardless of the personal "sacrifice" that might require of you?

I end this post acknowledging that it is rambly and covers a lot of ground, but this is what happens when I am faced with going to Washington. It hits me like a shock and the shootings on top of that just pile on to the amount of self-reflection and rambling that occurs.