Hidden Fears

Last night I bought some “ice cream” from the local gas station/quick mart. I was/am still pretty limited in my mobility and am wary about exerting myself more than I should right now.

I tell you this because it will explain why I tried to “grocery shop” at a convenience store. The small space I had to navigate was something manageable while the larger store, just down the road, wasn’t.

Along with my basket of carbs (chips, french fries, chips), I saw some protein frozen desert stuff that I thought I’d give a try.

Putting the pint into the shopping basket made me feel less like a failure for succumbing to the lure of processed “food” to fill my belly (justification/diversion, much? 😉 )

Anyhoo, last night, after a lovely lunch and dinner of chips and dip (if I made it with Greek yogurt, does that count as calcium and protein and cancel out the hydrogenated oil and salt???), I thought I’d try some vanilla “ice cream”.

As I reached into the bag the cashier had put the frozen item in and that I had stashed inside my freezer, I noticed the “ice cream” kind of slid around a bit in the container. I had never had this experience with ice cream before but I thought I would go ahead and open the plastic seal and see what there was to see.

And this is where today’s post about hidden fears comes into play.

The “ice cream” had freezer burn so badly it was in no way edible. At all.

Disappointment filled me but not for the reason you would think. No, I had this sudden lump/tightness in my throat because I wanted to be able to take it back to the convenience store and show them/get a refund of my money.

That scared me.

I got panicky just thinking about it. I tried to recall where I had put the receipt. I started running through scenarios and doing one-woman role plays with me and whoever happened to be behind the counter should I suck up the courage and request my $3.00 back.

Which is, of course, just slightly bordering the “ridiculous” line of things, don’t you think?

So, I watched myself reacting, put the “ice cream” back in the freezer and numbed myself with a new series on Netflix for the rest of the night/early morning.

When I woke up this morning I felt foggy and heavy and bad and guilty (chips/bad food eating binge). I also remembered the “ice cream” and again, panic and fear about returning it versus just taking the loss and accepting the results without speaking up or asking for better (HUGE LIFE LESSON HERE) climbed their way through my numb brain.

About a month earlier, this same fear had presented itself along similar lines. I had bought a carton of nectarines from another local shop and when I tried to eat one the next day, they had started to mold.

Two days later, after I had already separated the two or three moldy ones from the rest, I bit into what I thought was an almost “ripe” one and found a pit covered in mold. Splitting open the remaining nectarines showed me the same thing. All of the ten or so pieces of fruit that had been in the glass fruit bowl on my kitchen half-wall/shelf, were completely rotten inside.

The exact same feelings I had about the “ice cream” where what I had then and I remember realizing how out of proportion they were (my internal dialogue, feelings, physical responses, etc.) to the situation at hand. 

I tried to picture other people I know who I could imagine having ZERO PROBLEM thinking ANYTHING about returning something “defective” or “damaged” and getting their money back.

I could see Beth easily chatting with the cashier at a store and pointing out the problem while waiting for her refund.

I could see Gwen thinking this was a great opportunity for the business/store to get a “heads up” about something and ward off any further issues with other customers.

These two women friends of mine, as they popped into my head, were acting (all imaginarily, of course) in my mind, like perfectly normal people dealing with a perfectly normal – if inconvenient or disappointing – problem like it was no big deal (again, their “behavior” all conjecture in my mind based off of what I knew/know about them).

So, why was I getting scared?

Why did the nectarines (which I did return and receive a refund for with absolutely no problem from the very kind Swedish store manager) and now the “ice cream” trigger me in such a way as to evoke a fear response?????

I’m thinking it’s a deep, deep wound, you guys. I’m sensing an area here so layered and hidden and surrounding stuff that connects to other triggering events. And even that, the awareness, can bring shortened breaths and clenched teeth.

And tears beginning to form in my sad, sad eyes.

*UPDATE: The minute I hit “publish” I gathered the “ice cream”, the receipt and my wallet and drove to the quick mart. A different person than the one who had helped me yesterday was there but I knew her and when she asked if she could help me, I gathered my courage and opened the bag.

Long story short, both she and the other woman who was there, were shocked and made the “usch!” sound, which, in Sweden means something like, “Eww/ugh! That’s not good!”. And then the first woman immediately THANKED me for bringing the “ice cream” back while the second woman went to see if there was something wrong with their freezer and tho check the rest of the pints on the shelf.

I gave my receipt and received $5.87 (not $3.00 like I had thought it had cost) back in cash.

Easy peasy.

I mentioned I had been really stressed about even doing this and the first woman waved me off like it was nothing.

NOTHING.

It really was NOTHING. 

And, yet, it was everything.

Thank You, Father.