Two weeks ago, I was sitting on the couch working when it suddenly dawned on me that I might not have any luggage. Ordinarily, this is not a big deal since I rarely take big enough trips to require more than a carry on. However, the kids and I are leaving for Turkey next week. So as soon as remembered we might not have any luggage, I panicked. I ran into the garage and my fears were proven right.

No luggage.

I ran right to my savior, amazon, and it took me only four minutes to start hyperventilating. I hate shopping. I mean I really hate shopping. When I was about to have David and needed to buy some baby essentials, I started weeping. My sister had to talk me through each item on the phone all the way from Turkey. Shopping is not my thing.

Anyhow, I started looking at the luggages and had no idea what the right size would be. After stressing, panicking, and even crying a bit, I picked one and bought it.

Ten days later, it came and it was way too small for three people and two weeks. So now I was a little over a week away from my trip and I still had no luggage that I could use. And I had a piece of luggage that was useless that I’d paid for. If shopping puts me into a frenzy, you should see what having to return items does to me. Instead of letting the despair consume me, I just went and bought another one that was two sizes bigger. I ordered 2-day delivery to ensure it would be here in plenty of time.

And then the obsessive clicking began.

I am not sure if I am the only crazy person who does this but when I order something I really want or need, I find myself going on amazon 20, 30, 40 times a day and checking order status. And when it finally changes to “shipped,” I then go to the ups/fedex site and continue my obsessive clicking there. I need to make sure it’s moving across America. I start thinking about the worst case scenario. UPS will lose my package. I will not get it on time and will not be able to go on the trip. It will come and be broken. Something will go wrong. The stories go on and on in my head. As if I can control the outcome with my sheer will. As if worrying will ensure nothing goes wrong.

This issue with having to control the outcome happened to me so many times this week that I decided the universe was trying to send me a message. The car needed last minute repairs and smog check for the DMV, the planned schedule at work turned topsy turvy due to a last minute issue, etc. etc. Each time I thought I had a plan for how things would go, something new (albeit small and inconsequential in the scheme of life events) came up and I found myself close to breaking down.

At some point, I just got really mad at myself. My need to control things. My desire to have it all be done “NOW” and not hang on my mind or my to-do list. The way I would let something as dumb as smog check or luggage really take over my day and weigh me down. I just kept coming back again and again to this need to control and clench tightly.

What I was reminded gently is that I do not have any control. Things happen. It’s neither my fault nor my success. All I get to do is show up and do the best I can and then I release it. The rest of it is not up to me. That’s the hardest part for me, remembering that it’s no up to me. And that I can just go on and live my life and when the next thing comes up, I will deal with it then. Life is not about constantly making backup plans. It’s ok to have one occasionally for the stuff that matters. But, even then, the excessive worrying is pointless.

So that’s my lesson for this week: release, release, release.

There’s no such thing as control. It’s all an illusion. And these small instances are perfect reminders and preparation for more substantial ones. The more I can learn to practice releasing now, the better off I will be in the long run.

Oh, and, the luggage arrived right on schedule, of course. It was a little bigger than I’d hoped but it will do perfectly for the trip. And the car is all fixed. And life continues to unfold every day so the best I can do is show up and welcome it all.

Here’s what I’m learning this week: nothing lasts.

What I’m learning is that life is all about starting, stopping, starting again, failing again, changing things up and trying again and on and on in a recurring cycle.

Summer’s begun and so many of the things I was doing a few months (or a few weeks even) ago aren’t in my life anymore. I’ve stopped the no-sugar and the 5am wake-ups and the meditation and journaling (for the most part.) Between the strep throwing me off and the summer starting and our trip coming up, I feel like my footing is a bit unsteady these days.

But it’s not even the right now. When I look over the last few months, years, I realize that things are constantly shifting. Sometimes I share when I start something new, but I don’t mention when I stop it. When I fall off the path. It’s not cause I am ashamed to talk about it. It’s not a big secret or anything like that. It’s usually because the “falling off” happens so gradually or non-eventfully. It’s not like I wake up and decide to start eating sugar again. It’s one small decision here and one tiny one there. One morning I decide to sleep in because I am tired and the next thing I know I am no longer getting up at 5am. It’s subtle.

If I don’t pay attention, I might almost miss it and then wonder how I got so off-path. This is one of the reasons I like having a very structured schedule. It makes it more noticeable when I fall off course.

What I decided this morning as I was pondering all this was that I will no longer think of these as falling or quitting or failing. I am beginning to think that this is what life is. It meanders. We find some balance, stay on it for a while and then things shift and we have to find another way to balance. Always adjusting, altering, revising.

The path forward is not straight. It’s not even forward. Sometimes you have to go down and around and left and right and even backwards before you can get to the next place. And even though I live a relatively structured life, I have still learned to accept this flow.

Well accept might be too strong. I find myself resisting, judging, wanting to control, being disappointed, angry and sad. But it doesn’t matter. I know that the way out is always through and I know that there’s no such thing as perfect balance. It’s all temporary. Ephemeral. So I am learning to accept. Learning to sit without judgement.

It’s a work in progress.

First of all, I am sorry that I disappeared to nowhere for the last week or so. As I mentioned last weekend, I woke up with strep at the beginning of the week and it was a rough week so I decided to give myself whatever time off I needed. That meant the blog posts were going to have to wait. It also meant I am behind in everything. And it meant we started our summer with anything but a routine. Alas, this is the way life goes.

Anyhow.

A few weeks ago, I was sitting at book club and I was voicing my opinion and thoughts on something pertaining to working. One of the women in my group said something like “But your situation is so unique Karen.”

And I immediately went to my bad place.

I could literally feel my heart beating loudly and my entire body trying to choose between shutting down or rebelling. It was not a comfortable experience. And I’d like to say I handled it with grace, but I said a few choice words first (albeit quietly) and then closed my mouth.

But I was still seething inside.

Actually, I think I still am.

I spent my whole life feeling different, not-like-the-others, weird, blah blah. It’s one of the reasons I chose to leave the country I was born in and come here to the US. I’ve always chased after this feeling of wanting to be “normal.” As I have gotten older and reflected more, I’ve realized that, for me, these continual thoughts of being different have severed my sense of belonging. Because I feel like I am so different, I feel like I don’t belong and won’t ever belong.

So when someone tells me how different I am, I immediately hear “You will never belong here.” It doesn’t even matter if they mean well. Sometimes people will say how different I am, meaning it in a positive way, like how great I am, but I don’t even like hearing that. Because it still means I don’t belong. It still means “this one is not like the others.”

It perpetuates my deepest fear of never belonging.

But I’ve been making a conscious effort to fight this lately. I have come to realize that we’re all different from each other. And we’re all the same. We each share some things in common and we are wildly different in other ways. So, now, instead of seeing all the ways in which I’m apart, I look for things we share.

And I decided I am not okay with people calling me unique, different, whatever anymore. I am rebelling against it. All I’ve ever wanted was to belong, and I don’t understand why I have to be someone I am not to feel that way. So I am stopping the feelings inside and I am not allowing any more of the conversation that triggers these thoughts in me anymore.

Maybe this is childish. Is it? Honestly, I am so deep in lack of belonging that I can’t even see if it is. I just know that it feels wrong when people say it. Regardless of their intentions. And I don’t want to undermine myself or them so that I can fit in. I just want to be me and I want to be ok with them being who they are. We’re all 100% unique. There’s no other person like me or you in the world.

So maybe we all don’t fit in.

Or maybe I’m still a bit sick from the fever and antibiotics. I’m not sure.