
“Sometimes the wrong choices bring us to the right places.” ~Unknown
In a span of one month, my beloved little red Toyota catches on fire, burning to a molten blob; I land in the emergency room with a ruptured disc after lifting a child out of her wheelchair; and I try a do-it-yourself hair highlighting kit, which leaves me looking, well, think Phyllis Diller.
I feel confused. I have tried so hard to do all the right things. How could my life have gotten so off track?
I am in the grip of a disorder some people might call manic compression—trying to do everything perfectly in an attempt to please everyone around me. Some of my friends seem to be enjoying life, but I’m definitely not.
I flounder, looking for answers to this dilemma, without the vaguest inkling that I have created the situation. I call friends and bore them with my woeful tales of angst and doubt. I wake up every morning at 3:00 to wrestle with my pillow for an hour and then, as a last resort, drag my journal off the nightstand and into my lap.
Most of what I write in that diary is page after page of questions with the same themes: Why are these bad things happening? How can I stop feeling so befuddled? Will I ever sleep again?
You know how sometimes life sends little presents just when we need them. I was having lunch with a friend who was excited about sharing a story she had just read. She reached into her purse and pulled out a copy of Autobiography in 5 Short Chapters by Portia Nelson:
I
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost. I am helpless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes me forever to find a way out. (more…)






