Escape Room

There was a cupboard in our kitchen filled with medications. Doctor prescribed. And I mean filled. All identified as my dad’s. It took me a while to realize that my dad was addicted to prescription drugs. And it didn’t help that this was a period of time when there was no internet, no cross referencing. He could go to doctor to doctor to doctor and come home with a new medication or two after every visit. 

It came to an end soon after my mom died. He kicked up the intake of his drugs and on one particular day, he crashed his car. I drove from Illinois to Ohio to see him and with my brother’s input, we decided it was time to have him admitted into a hospital, the Vet Hospital. It was, without a doubt, one of the worst experiences I have ever had. Convincing doctors that my dad had a problem and then to convince them that he needed hospitalization. As I drove my dad to the Vet hospital, he was withdrawn. The only thing he said to me, as I left, was, “Please don’t forget about me”.

On my way to my dad’s house, I was in incredible pain, overwhelming emotions. It was in that haze that I stopped at a gas station and bought the biggest bag of Peanut M&Ms I could find and then proceeded to keep my mouth full of them throughout the rest of the drive (about 2 hours). On my return trip home, I remained in that haze. And soon found myself at my favorite antique barn where I bought myself a pricey picture and a table. When I got home, my husband was a bit shocked to see all that was in the car. He seemed to understand, though, and never said a word. But that picture and table, two things that I had been eyeing for a while, didn’t quite serve me well because every time I looked at them, I saw my dad, sitting on the bed, in the Vet hospital, next to a man who was screaming at the top of his lungs.

I’m thinking of this because I have next to me a bag of Peanut M&Ms and several tabs opened on my laptop filled with information about the latest Apple Watch. It just occurred to me a few days ago that I’ve got some big feelings going on. So big that I’m drawn, once again, to pricey objects and large bags of sugar. 

Emotions are hard. The difficult emotions. The big emotions. The ones that cause my brain to stall and my breathing to become erratic. Where I don’t think clearly. Where I find myself suddenly shopping online and roaming down aisles of cookie dough and chocolate bars.

I used to feel guilty when that happened. You know, the ‘ole eating your feelings, avoiding your feelings, denying your feelings. But, as I’m thinking about it now, I find no guilt. I feel only the pain. And the permission. Permission to escape. 

I don’t think God looks at me as a disappointment when I turn to spending money and eating candy. (responsibly, of course) He knows my pain and, dare I say, I think he encourages me to escape. Especially when I invite him along, invite him into the haze with me. For so many years I hid it (of course, not really) and it was exhausting. But having him here with me now feels right. Feels safe. Because I know that he’ll make sure I won’t stay here long, just long enough to get myself ready to face the big emotions and eventually find my way to hope.

Well, enough of all this thinking. I’ve got to get back to some shopping. Or maybe not. We’ll see. Jesus is a little distracting. But either way, we’re going to head back into my escape room. Looking, crunching on sweetness and possibly soon tapping a key to “confirm purchase.” Who knows? But, whatever happens, we’re finding some fun. And we’re in this together.