Lesson 11- Wallow

It has rained for three days. That's too long, even when you need the rain. I also have a problem I can't seem to solve. The presence of unwelcome obstacles to my daily routine has resulted in a pity party. And I am not at all ashamed. This week I am wallowing.

I love the word wallow. I love to say it, too. Wallow. Its definition conjures such imagery. Rolling about in a lazy and relaxed manner- think pig in the mud. Devoting yourself entirely to unrestrained pleasure- think toddlers and gigantic tantrums. It's like they are using their entire bodies to roll with what their minds are telling them. I'm miserable. I'm sad. I want a cookie.

a young Valerie Fields, just after a wallow



When my granddaughter (whose pen name is Valerie Fields) was three, I would watch with pride as she threw a tantrum. The seemingly endless fit included kicking, tears, wails and body jerks that made as little sense as whatever she was upset about. Most times it took only a small distraction (like 'Valerie Fields are you going outside with me?') to snap her out of it. But while the body and soul dance was going on, I was in awe of just how this worked for her. Often she would stop on her own (in just a matter of seconds) and walk away as though nothing had happened.

When my godson (Adam) was three, he had a different approach. When he was frustrated, he would lie perfectly still on the floor- usually in a doorway. It was a full body protest. And while no one was the least bit inconvenienced by his demonstrations, Adam was in full control. Getting up when he was good and ready. Like Valerie Fields, he called it quits only when he felt better.

Sometimes you have to go with your feelings to get over them. Burying emotions is not healthy. But a tantrum is not always appropriate. For my wallow, I've chosen a day of sighing and moaning. Physical, but unobtrusive. Very polite. Most likely no one will notice but me.

I can't control the rain, but I'm hoping tomorrow I will have a solution to my problem. Until then, I'm in for the wallow. I learned from the masters. Care to join me?