Commode To Joy

finding happy (even in the crappy)

Jury Doody

I’m in the middle of something here. I’ve had a total and complete commode moment happen, and I can’t yet tell you how it’s a good thing, because I’m still in the middle of it – in the waiting period. I’ve never written an installment during this stage of the turnaround, until now.

Do you remember a few weeks ago when I told you I’d been selected for jury duty and was even looking forward to it? The story has taken an unexpected twist.

I have a horrible habit of skimming shorter writings. Emails, texts, notes home from school, I do a quick once through as though I’m “feeling” the words (might sound nuts, but then again I’ve never claimed not to be). After the initial scan, I may or may not go back and reread to actually soak in the information. I’m embarrassed to admit that such was the case with my jury duty correspondence…

I saw, “Monday, September 17” and thought, Great! One day for selection and then we’ll go from there!

Now let me tell you, never once do I recall people speaking of a one-day call to jury duty. Why in the hell did that not sound the alarm? And also, how did I miss the detail to plan for a week-long term?!

In moments like this, I used to refer to myself as an idiot. My sister-in-law got serious with me telling me she didn’t like it when I spoke to myself like that (this was long before I’d ever heard term “self-talk”). Because I adore my sister-in-law, I heeded her scolding and changed “idiot” to “I love myself.” (Granted, I say it nearly dripping with sarcasm, but it still counts, right?)

I’ve said, “I love myself” at least twenty times today. And counting.

Anyway, the ONLY reason this jury duty mishap came to my attention, is because a friend, who’s also been summoned, text me saying how much it’s messing up her week. Week! Imagine my surprise when I read her text.

Next week, I’ve agreed to chaperone a field trip for Miller’s school. There are no buses; they rely on parents to commute students. Swell. I have a few appointments that might need swapped out should I make the cut. And then there’s this: I Have Tickets To A Maroon 5 Concert In Indianapolis That I’ve Had Since December!!! And they’re non-refundable. And I really freaking love myself.

I mean really, this love has taken a toll on me. (Like what I did there? Cause I do.)

Now believe it or not, I’m quite calm about this. Annoyed? Yes, but also calm. I’ve done my due diligence thus far, including calling the number on the summons form should a situation arise that interferes with jury duty.

Now I wait. For a return call. For Monday to see whether I’m tossed as a juror for knowing too many people. (I mean, I know a lot of attorneys and hospital folk. Maybe that’ll count for something?)

I’ve gotten decent at this kind of waiting space. Not because I’m not the anxious type (you read my piece about being Unshamefully Medicated, right?), but because of the defining question of my life: How is it a good thing?

Thanks to this question, I know that I know that I know that this will all pan out. That everything will be fine. Maybe even more than fine.

Would I like to go to Miller’s field trip and attend the concert with my girlfriend? Yes and yes. Would I like to keep my already scheduled appointments? Absolutely. But will I fall to pieces if it doesn’t work out like this? No. I won’t even cuss about it.

What happens from here is beyond my control, so what’s the point in worrying about it? That reminds me of a quote from the movie “Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them.”

In it, the main character, Newt Scamander, says, “My philosophy is that worrying means you suffer twice.”


More importantly, regardless of what happens, the outcome will include its own set of positive aspects. There will be at least one good thing from it, so I shall await the goodness.

Hold up, my phone’s ringing. It’s a hometown number. No joke.


That was the return phone call. In short, my jury duty summons has been deferred to November. I’ll get to go on the field trip and keep my appointments and go to the concert! Plus, I’ll actually get to experience Jury Duty.

Well, unless I get tossed as a juror for knowing too many people…

For the woman who just called me, I offer her some love (and not just because of the outcome). She was polite, reasonable, and efficient; three great qualities in my book. You’ve heard me praise good customer service before, and here I go again. (Isn’t it so much more fun reading people’s positive experiences instead of angry rants? It’s certainly more fun putting out into the world, that’s for sure.)

Lastly, I must take a moment to celebrate how far I’ve come from being an anxiety-riddled worrier to being able to calmly wait things out. This is no small feat. It’s taken the better part of a decade (from self-realization to transformation) to manage.

To that end, I must say it.

I really do love myself.

Categories: Anxiety & Depression, Encouragement, Odes To Joy

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