Periscopecake

I have a magnet on my fridge with Buddha on it and a caption that reads “let that shit go”. And I’ll tell you, this advice is for display purposes only. I am not a grudge holder (I am too empathetic and forgetful for that) but worry and frustration? I got that stuff on an auto-renew subscription. Anyone who barely knows me seems to think I’m “easy going” but that’s just apathy, my friend. Those in the inner circle know I am full on worry, obsession and 6-page-journal-entry level high strung and rigid.

To be fair, I don’t hate this about myself. I don’t have constant issues and anxiety. However, the main triggers for my spiralling brain are rules that don’t make sense, people who are mean for no reason, and actions that don’t align with words. So basically, injustice and confusion.

Recently I travelled domestically for a marathon. We all know that going through airport security is a hassle at best and complete aggravation at worst. Luckily we don’t seem to have to put our little liquids into a little baggie anymore, but the rules all still seem arbitrary and selective. And I may sound a bit conspiracy-theorist here, but I also think the rules are to provide a sense of safety and compliance, not to assess actual danger.

When travelling for a race, I often stuff as much as can into my running shoes (efficiency is my jam!) so that is where I stow my gels and GPS watch, etc. On this occasion, I had shoved 4 energy gels and 4 electrolyte packages in there. It was flagged. I was not alarmed, as last time I travelled with gels in my shoes, they were checked and I was sent on my way. The officer who checked, noted what they were and moved along. But not this time. This time the lady dumped it all out and examined the supplements with a mix of confusion and distrust.

The bag held running stuff. The shoes held running accessories. I noted that they were sugar gels and electrolyte drink mix packets. She asked if they were salt. I said yes, electrolytes for hydration…She used the probe wand thingy and examined them with suspicion. Then she said the gels were fine but that she needed to confiscate the powders.

I felt rage and confusion. I asked if she was serious (I also knew I had one packet in my purse that was never flagged, so this was all ridiculous). She said I could go back through security if I wanted to go give them to someone outside (what!?) I was trying not to argue but…what!? I said “these are $2 each and individual drink mixes. Can I at least keep one?” Nope. Salt.

Then she pulled out my boyfriend’s Zippo lighter and examined it, asked her colleague and sparked the flame. Ya, an actual lighter is cool, but 4 salt filled drink packets = obvious kamikaze business. My boyfriend was like “Don’t argue or you’ll not be travelling at all”. I gave her a pleading look and asked once more how electrolyte packages could possibly be a problem. Then I watched her throw them out and we walked away.

I was fuming! I knew I had one in my purse. I knew that if I’d scattered them throughout my bag they wouldn’t have been discovered (rather than the apparent salt bomb they showed the machine; clumped together in my shoe with unknown gel substance). It wasn’t the money, it was the principle (and that the electrolytes I use are not readily available in stores, so good luck finding replacements at our destination). It was the complete absurdity of it all! The not-making-sense part of it all.

I dreamt about it. I obsessed about it. We searched and of course, could not find that brand, and I had to grab some other gross replacement that wasn’t even close to the profile of what I lost. But principle! As I chugged the weird stevia sweetened, aftertaste-laden replacement, I relived this horror! (hyperbole; I know this is first world problems).

As assumed, we scattered the now 15 packets of electrolytes in our bags for the trip home, and we of course got through with no flags or checks. So we get to finish this gross swill at home. Thank goodness the skies were protected from my previous 4 packets of highly reactive salt packs (watermelon and grapefruit flavoured terror!)

Do I wish I could just let shit go? Of course. But honestly, make things make sense and I could. I am a rule person. I like order and routine. But “rules” that make no sense? I just can’t. Clarity is required. Tell me why? Make it make sense and I will join your cult.

Confuse me and make choices that can’t be explained, I will wake up in the night with more questions. I analyze everything. I grant huge benefit of the doubt, if you seem to know what you’re doing and can explain your thought process. But too many things don’t make any sense. Too many weird and questionable behaviours that don’t stand up to basic scrutiny. That is my hair shirt. That is my water torture.

I need to work on this apparently. I do get over stuff. I move on and the anger fades. But I wish I could do so a little faster. I am currently reading a couple books on that subject, because I would like the perception that I am stoic to be a reality, and to not be so intense in these moments. I do want to learn to “let that shit go”. But for now, maybe I’ll just find better ways to smuggle my contraband, and talk in loops about injustice (or the perception of it).