Allergic to Life

My body has a magnetic pull toward the bathtub everyday around 7pm. Sometimes it’s more like 5:30, but generally I can hold off until everyone’s been fed. And then it hits. My people can continue watching TV or doing homework or playing basketball in the driveway, but Mom is going to take a bath.

I’m actually an 80 year old woman living in a 40 year old’s body, so I load up the tub with Epsom salts and a little lavender essential oil. Then I soak. I think about the day. Or not. I read a book. Or not. I listen to a podcast. Or not. I basically spend 30 minutes just… alone.

One of my favorite writers, Glennon Doyle, talks about being a little allergic to life. You can find her Momestery blog here, but I also highly suggest her book, Carry On Warrior. It’s a great read, and I guarantee you’ll want to run out and buy copies for all your friends.

Anyway, back to the point. Glennon writes and speaks and totally looks like she has it all together. But she doesn’t, at least not any more than the rest of us. She takes anti-anxiety medication because, as she says, she’s a little allergic to life.

Here’s what she posted about it on Facebook:

“Mom- why do you take that medicine again?

Um. You know how you love trees more than anything in the world- but you’re also a little allergic to them? So you take your allergy medicine so you can play and have a good time and love trees without feeling bad all the time?

Yeah.

I love life more than anything but I’m also a little allergic to it. So I take this medicine so I can still play with life and have a good time with life without feeling bad all the time.

Kay. Can I play wii?” (from 2/2/16)

I read that post and thought, “YES! I get it!”

Do you know, I wake up in the morning and my first thought is, “I should stay in bed. Nothing good is gonna happen today.”

HONESTLY! It’s a ridiculous, stupid lie from the enemy, and I know it. So I talk back. In the quiet darkness of my bedroom, I whisper, “This is the day the Lord has made. I WILL rejoice and be glad in it.” And then I put my feet on the floor and move forward.

Debating with the devil is never a good idea. He will not back down. He’s tireless. So instead I call on God and then I start moving. And all of a sudden, that overwhelming day, that day that made me want to call my imaginary boss and say, “Sorry, can’t come into work as a mom today, my allergies to life are acting up” just sort of unfolds.

Before I know it, it’s 7pm and the bathtub is calling my name.

I close my eyes and breathe in the lavender scented bathroom and realize it was a good day. I gave it everything I had, which is pretty amazing considering I never wanted to get up in the first place.

I’m believe I’m a little allergic to life. I think we all are. This is not our final home, so our souls are always searching for heaven. I’m glad to know that until we get there, we have each other, we have anti-anxiety meds when we need them, and we have Epsom salts.

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