The moment I walked through the junior high doors, the baddies would pounce on me like a pack of jackals. “Buy some weed, kid!” they would sneer, shoving me back and forth like a hairbow-wearing sack of potatoes. If things got really bad, maybe they’d try to hold me down and force something….up my nose? Down my throat? How did people take drugs anyway?

Didn’t matter! I’d kick them away with the karate skills I didn’t have, and bravely yell, ‘NO!’ for all of seventh grade to hear. 

This would be the most serious NO of my life and I practiced it in my head all summer long. I even hung up my DARE medal like a rosary over my bed. Amazingly, that all turned out to be unnecessary, because it turned out kids with a stash of anything want nothing to do with hair bow wearing nerds. I’m not even sure those kids existed in my junior high, at least not in the dark and threatening form I imagined them taking. (People who went to SCJH – did they?? Hit me in the DM’s!)

All those years ago I had to rehearse my no, because I’m a default yes kind of gal. That’s nice, you think. What’s the problem? The problem is – arrrrgh, my fellow yes people, you know this! The problem is when I’ve agreed to do too much something’s got to give. And eventually, that something is me. But sometimes I can’t resist biting on a good idea, or doing something that feels like it needs to be done.

Last week’s example – I was cruising down the frozen foods aisle, my cart brimming over with a week’s work of groceries layered over my nine year old. A woman with dark, wet eyes approached me, with an “Excuse me, ma’am.” She’d had an emergency move, a new job, waiting on help that hadn’t yet come. Violence was involved. She asked, could I get groceries for her and her girls? 

I said yes. We went and checked out together. 

I don’t regret saying yes. I regret that I said yes without thinking, without checking myself at all. Like, yes I can help you, but let’s talk about a budget. Or, is there something I can help you access to get quick support? Or, is there anyone else in my life I need to think about first? I did none of this. You might say the manic-y part of my bipolar was showing just a tad. 

It hit me as I watched the numbers tick up on the register from our dual grocery carts – I’ve got to calm it down. My brain is stuck in running down the checklist, kicking down the doors mode. When I feel like I’m in a place where I’m presented with problem, problem, problem, my engine fires up to tempo and goes solution, solution, solution. Hails yeah, give me that grocery cart!

But contrary to what my churning brain would have me believe, not all the things are mine to solve. And when I’m churning, the solutions I come up with aren’t the best ones – like me whipping out my credit card without thinking. Annnnnd, when I go go go like this, my brain gets twitchy. HA, the irony!! I’ve created a problem by trying to solve problems! 

Even when I don’t want to admit I’m overwhelmed, my body lets the cat out of the bag with stress hives.

So. Even though I never had to say no to the pot smoking badasses of South Charleston Junior High, it feels like a great time to use my no-saying now. Cause, honestly y’all? I’ve been “up” and fighting whatever looks like it needs fixing for too long. Time to come on down, now. 

Since you’re reading this, congratulations and thanks so much, you’re now my accountability partner! Stuff I’ve said no to:

1. Meetings. More than one! Including one that involved travel and reservations! (Delegated.)
2. Volunteer assignment at my kid’s school! (Canceled.)
3. Email from my kid’s school with an ‘opportunity’ for a volunteer role of 10 to 12 hours a month. (Laughed out loud.)

Thank you thank you XXO, to the wonderful parent who dives into that. But not me, not now. 

Making no a part of daily life may not seem like a big deal. But it’s a big deal for your nerd here. Who no longer wears a hair bow. 

I’m standing here watch-writing this at my daughter’s swim practice. Watch-writing, because I’m not just pounding away at the keys with one eye on the time. I’m watching her kick and glide and dive. When we get home, I’ll fold the laundry. I’ll comb her hair – the slow way she likes, divided into sections and massaging out the tangles. I’ll look for pictures for this blog. Maybe I’ll use the fancy apple scrub in the shower before picking from one of the three brain candy books on my bedside table.

I will slow down.

I will go back to therapy.

To be continued.