Overwhelmed

Do you ever feel overwhelmed?
Well, I do.
At work the other day, I was overwhelmed. I looked at the clock and I looked at the tasks that were accumulating in front of me and there was no way I was going to get it all done. Overwhelmed. There is a nurse who used to work with us who was overwhelmed from the moment she stepped off the elevator in the morning and she was famous for these words, “I’m going to scream and run out of the building.”
That was what I wanted to do. Scream and run out of the building. Or run screaming out of the building, or any variation thereof. I couldn’t wait to get out of there and at the same time I felt that I should stay and tie up the endless loose ends. There’s no screaming and running in nursing.
Last week I had an episode of overwhelmed at home. It was a laundry overwhelming.
The Mr. has an evil plot to do certain things wrong every time so I won’t ask him to do said task again. Laundry is one of those tasks.
I will admit that I have a certain manner in which I would like to run this house which I do believe is to the best advantages of its inhabitants. One of those is that when the week starts on Monday, I think all the necessary elements of a successful week should be in place. Groceries, housework, laundry, etc.
So the Mr. is doing laundry. Here is how the Mr. does laundry. Pick up a handful of miscellaneous items, cram it into the washing machine, dump in detergent, start machine. Is the machine already on hot, small load setting? So be it. Has the Mr. picked up jeans, socks, delicates and my brand new blouse in one scoop? So be it. In they go.
When load is complete, within three to four days the Mr. will reapproach and cram the items into the dryer. Often on high heat. Fabric softener sheet optional (the eighth deadly sin if one lives in furnace static cling Michigan). Clean out the lint screen? What lint screen?
Load finishes, dryer buzzes and in three to four days the Mr. again approaches, or not. Usually whoever is unfortunate enough to attempt to do more laundry is stuck with whatever that person finds in the dryer. That unfortunate person was me. Crammed into the dryer I found a slightly damp three loads in one wrinkled mess. Including my now shrunk beyond belief wadded up brand new blouse, having had only one wearing before its assault at the hands of my husband.
And this, my friends, was overwhelming. Ok, it may seem very petty to you and maybe you never become overwhelmed with relatively minor issues. But I do. I am the camel whose back has been broken by the proverbial straw. I react like a lunatic to every so many offenses; and this was it.
I showed the Mr. the results of his handiwork and included a reminder that he’s forty one years old, been married twenty years and hearing the instructions for laundering without destructive side effects for many moons. I held up my ruined blouse and threw it into the garbage with a flourish. I explained the problem and how it should’ve been handled and then reminded him that this was not late-breaking information. I told him that I suspect this is a passive aggressive attempt to avoid being asked to do laundry.
“All right. Maybe you should do it yourself then. If I’m going to do it; I’m going to do it my way. Sorry about your blouse. Go buy a new one.”
And then the snakes flew out of my hair and my head spun around backwards and the earth stood still.
And I was overwhelmed.
Yes, I yelled and yes I was angry and yes I stomped upstairs, pulled out a book and didn’t come back down to the living room for the rest of the evening. And yes I gave him the cold shoulder the next morning.
Correct response? No. But I was overwhelmed and somewhere in it all, I just boiled over.
In the midst of it all though; I came up with a solution that I am quite pleased with. You’ll think me a terrible wife and mother but honestly, I don’t care. I don’t want to be laundry overwhelmed again.
I informed the men that live here with me that I no longer do their laundry. And they are not to do my laundry (like there’s a big possibility of them doing my laundry behind my back).
So for the last week I’ve done my little loads of laundry here and there. Scrubs laundered, line dried and pressed. Delicates delicately cleaned and put away. Sweaters smelling Bounce fresh and static free.
And on Saturday, no Mt. Vesuvius of laundry to tackle.
Meanwhile, last night the Mr. announces that he has no clean underwear. Mac asks when I’m doing laundry and Jay states he’s just wearing his stuff dirty.
There was a time that this would’ve overwhelmed me all over again and after more screaming and snake hair I’d have stomped to the basement and done their laundry.
Not so today.
I refuse to carry that burden, it ain’t mine.
The Mr. shared the heart-breaking story of not having clean underwear in the Ford Motor Company’s men’s locker room.
Sad, says I. Do your laundry.
Sometimes we can’t get out from under the stuff that overwhelms us. That’s the stuff that God will get us through despite ourselves. Like days at work when it’s just piling up faster than we can do the job. Like children who are sick and we can’t fix it. Like bills that are bigger than paychecks and elderly parents who need more than we can give and spouses who don’t love us the way we need to be loved.
Then there’s the stuff that we pile on ourselves and it’s our fault we don’t step back and get out from under it.
Like laundry someone else can do. Like toxic relationships that need to end. Like bad habits we won’t break and apologies we owe and grace we won’t ask for.
When you figure out which category the stuff in question falls into, you feel a lot better.
What’s overwhelming you?

Psalm 55:5
Fear and trembling have beset me; horror has overwhelmed me.