mood rings

Do you remember mood rings? The cheap ones that you could purchase at Claire's that usually turned your finger green around the band and were a better barometer for the circulation in your extremities than the actual mood of your person. Today, I found myself wishing, quite fervently, that I had a mood ring that would let me know before I got up what kind of day it was going to be. I think I would need an adult version of the colors. Something along the lines of:

• Blue: You are perfectly lovely today. You are pure sunshine. Speak freely as you choose.
• Red: Vah. Vah. Voom. Your 13 year old adolescent is in top snarky, innuedo-d form. Please enjoy but also be aware of your audience.
• Yellow: The stresses of life are making you extra weepy today. Please remember that your cats don't play mean out of spite but out of habit. Despite appearances, they are not actually out to get you.
• Green: You are reading too much into everything. Hold your mental tongue, don't take things too seriously. Hold you verbal tongue as well, while you're at it.
• Black: What appears to be a good start to the day crashes around your feet by your AM shower. Watch your tone and your actions. Hold your mental tongue but actually talk to those who are annoying you. The scary quiet thing has lost all charms. Be kind.

Reading these, they are actually half fortune cookie, half mood ring. But, in the interest of being transparent (modeled by my husband) I'm going to confess. My mood ring probably went to bed yellow last night, only to start the day off green and then take a quick U-Turn to black this morning.

In the group home setting I used to work in, we didn't talk about mood rings, per se, but we did look for triggers, for signs of an immenint meltdown with the girls. As I live in my situation, I find that it is all too easy to try and pinpoint triggers. And I could pinpoint them. Lots of transitions. Lots of typical oldest child behaviors (impossible standards for self, for starts). Lots of busyness, not enough rest for this introvert. But, and this is an important but, but it doesn't matter. Those things, they just let me off the hook. A hook that I hung myself up on when I didn't keep myself in check. I have the blessing of self awareness, I ought to know myself enough to know when I need to shut down and reboot. And today, I didn't. Did I need to overreact about the windows? No. Did I need to assume that he had assumed the worst about me? Again, no. In fact, shouldn't I be assuming that he assumes the best about me, in love? In fact, the question that is probably best: should I place my own issues on him ever, much less first thing on a Monday morning? No.

As I finished getting ready for work and walked across the black-iced-sheathed parking lot, my own self actualization took a deeper hold. My capability to be a bitch as well as a lovely person is astounding. I'm not proud, but I am more aware. This is, I know, part of living thoughtfully. It is not all beauty and flowers and creativity. It is being thoughtful in the times of the black mood ring, in the times of the snarky wounded sinner and revising how I cope, how I live, how I treat those I love the most. Living thoughtfully brings tears of shame and repentence, as well as tears of joy and laughter.

Where to from here? Ask for forgiveness. Cling to grace. Seek health. Repeat until death. Take the cat to the vet. Get a haircut on Friday. Keep breathing. Keep learning. Keep living.

But the wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure; then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere. Peacemakers who sow in peace reap a harvest of righteousness.-James3