Journal: Powerlessness

I have a confession, I HATE feeling powerless.

I can’t stand the feeling of immobilization from the overwhelming sense that there is absolutely nothing I can say or do to get what I think I need or want to happen, especially when it is about getting another person to fall into alignment with my will.

It happens with Evron when he doesn’t look or reply when I’ve been talking. The same thing happens when our almost four year old doesn’t show she’s listening by altering her course and doing what’s been asked of her. It happens when I’m trying to get a well-meaning but misguided friend to stop offering her unwelcome and unsolicited advice. I feel it when the collectors tell me,”I’m calling to help you resolve this debt today.”

Right now I’m feeling it because I’m pretty sure Evron’s emotional and psychological problems are about to cause him to quit his new job, the only income we have other than SNAP (Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program) benefits. It triggers this huge sense of helplessness and insecurity.

He’s stressed, depressed, and broody. Just about anything I say, regardless of how I say it trips his deeply embedded sense of low-self esteem and he feels pressured, criticized and judged.

So, I feel powerless and helpless, out of control and almost hopeless.

Then, I made a desperate plea and prayer that God would soothe and grant peace to Evron. I want him to have his emotional storm calm down enough for him to make the right decision. Of course, the underlying thought is that the right decision is the choice I want him to make.

I really should have prayed for my own serenity.

God grant me the serenity to ACCEPT the things I cannot change.

He called the guy who hired him and talked to him about his concerns. He had his thoughts and feelings validated. Afterward, he said he wasn’t feeling much better, but accepted the start time they gave him of four a.m. tomorrow. He’s been in bed for a couple of hours now trying to get enough sleep.

I feel relieved and thankful. Glad I prayed instead of trying to sway him to do the “right” thing. It may well be that he would have done this anyway, without the prayer.

I can say with certainty that if I hadn’t prayed, I would have opened my mouth; then his anger would have escalated and I would be having an emotional storm of my own. He would be in stony, hot silence or ranting and I would be pouring out streams of salty hurt and frustration. Our little one would be in the background asking us what our feelings are, “You okay, mommy, okay?” and admonishing in her piping, sing-song voice, “Calm down, daddy. Calm down.”

How do I know? It’s happened a few times.

A three year old shouldn’t be the emotionally stable one in the family. I’m grateful she didn’t have to be today.

I’ll take it as a win.

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