Wobbly river

When I woke up today, I thought to myself, "I need to go talk to one of my pastors; my anxiety is wrapped tight. I'm not functioning. I can't feel anything anymore." But I knew my pastor would just tell me that I need a drink (if I wasn't in the "upper ministry echelon" then he would be afraid of departing that advise given our semi-Baptist funding). He told me that before a Wednesday night program once when I was on the verge of a panic attack (only prayer stopped it and gave me calm).
So, I had a wonderful glass of red wine tonight at the local winery. The wine was called 'rouge jouilette', je pense. It made me walk back up the hill that looks over the Missouri river in a wobbly happy sort-of way. Oui, j'ai l'amour pour le vin and ale, but I rarely imbibe much. No more writer group meetings. Not many more book club outings lately. I feel self-conscious about it too. I remember some feelings that accompanied the drink.
But, the 13th anniversary gave us a ticket out. A movie ticket also. We went to see "Sideways", and it, too, helped me feel again. Yes, it was full frontal uncouth in some ways, but it made me thoughtful and glad for my own personal landing. It involved lots of wine, a perturbed unpublished writer, a sexaholic, regrets, longing, grasping for bits of grace. It made me glad that I have opened my hands to an alternative. I used to be more where the characters of the movie are -- dependent upon the movements of others, dependent upon seasons, upon how others react to me, dependent upon my own sense of worth, upon external circumstances .... and, even though I still have my dread ups and downs, I'm steadier now, due to faith, due to Word. This doesn't mean that I'm certain I will always continue with it. I could do something foolish; however, I know something new now which means a hell of a lot to me. I'm so glad I feel this again, and I thank the movie for making me sad and empathetic and longing for what's beyond our suffering and our temporary goodness (which I'm not downplaying ~~ existential grace is amazing if that's all we have; there's a certain beauty in that, although extreme sadness too in its short-lived state). I felt sad for the characters. The writer almost killed himself if it wasn't for the grace of Mia who encouraged him, who gardened, who had 'lots of soul.'
Maybe I will go talk to the pastor when the anxiety wraps me up again. Yet, I don't know, maybe I'll just go see a movie. Maybe I better talk to him and make sure that this is alright. Maybe I just need to get out of the house more.
Well, I think I can sleep now since I processed this. We have a full day without children tomorrow. It's guilty pleasure which is a nice feeling to be able to experience. Thank you, le Dieu, for this grace. Maybe in heaven, I will be a perfect mother.
Bien nuit!