Talking myself into being crazy?

I think I could talk myself into insanity. I talk to myself on a regular basis. Not always out loud for others to hear, that only happens sometimes. But, the sound track always seems to be running. And, to help achieve the craziness factor it is like two different people in my head. I'll let you peek in on an example:

"Ok. Today we (meaning me) are going to count each and every calorie that goes into my body. Great. I can do this. I have my paper ready, and I'm going to write everything down."

Time elapses. Chores get done. A few moments of thinking time happen and...

"Oooooo - I want to make something in the kitchen. What shall I make? Let's poke around online and see what we can find that looks like fun to make. Something yummy. And sweet."

A recipe is found. Are there calorie notations for it? Often times not. Can I figure it out. Yes. Do I take the time to do the math? Often times not! Do you see how I set myself up for frustration here? From starting the day ready to count each and every calorie to talking myself into making something that I don't even have the calorie counts for - that's just crazy!!

And, food choice is not the only area where I talk out of both sides of my own mouth. I can create a list of chores that I want to get done, tell myself how wonderful it will be when they are completed, and then in my next thoughts come up with all the reasons why I can't do this or that item on the list. ARUGH! Could be laziness, could be my need for perfection - which makes it harder to start something, or could be just simple insanity! ha!

I went with my pastor and a church friend to tour the local jail last week. My pastor is involved in the jail "Good News Ministry". This is something that I have had some curiosity about for some time, and I had emailed my pastor about getting more information. Thus, it was set up for me to go get a tour and meet some of the other women who volunteer at the jail.

I wasn't sure what I would be walking into. I was not at all prepared for the emotional whammy that sat on my chest for the rest of the day following the tour. Again - both sides of my brain were talking to me. The jail itself was extremely clean, very well run, and all the paid staff that I interacted with were quite courteous and helpful. But, contrast that with the overwhelming feelings of despair.

When a person enters the jail everything is taken away from them. Everything. They are only allowed a comb, a toothbrush, and toothpaste. They are issued the colorful jumpsuit, and also some thin (although clean) bedding. If they are arrested not wearing shoes, or their glasses - they are not allowed to stop along the way and pick them up. They go without. They no longer have a name, but are now a number. Everything of comfort is pretty much taken away.

I was able to see the cells where the inmates are housed. They are quite small, and there are two to a cell. And, the cells all connect to a "commons" area where there are some tables and chairs set up for a change of scenery. That is a stretch to call it a change of scenery, as the inmates can see the commons from their cell. They are watched at all times. People can look in on/at them like puppies at the pound all the time.

There are no outside windows. The outside time is limited to about 1 hour a day - but, outside means that they are escorted into another area of four bricked walls with razor wire over the top between where they are standing and the small rectangle of sky that they can see by looking straight up. No plants. No animals. No other human contact. (only the other inmates)

The women that I was following/learning from go to the jail to help with the "library". Library? There is a small cart that is filled with books, and then taken to the inmates where they can check out only two books at any given time. My family personally OWNS more books than there are available in this traveling library! There were fewer books in this traveling library than there are in one room of my house. Because I love books so much, that was distressing to me. Knowing that reading could be the only form of mental escape allowed for these people, and then seeing the limits on that option - well, that just made me sad.

But, the other side of the brain had to have a say in all of this, too. Things like, "all sins have consequences", and "this is what happens when you break the law", and "they have to learn from the process" all creep to the surface of my inner dialogue. Although those statements may hold some truth, that didn't lessen the impact of seeing what rock bottom looks like on the inside of a jail.

Volunteering at the jail may be something that I decide to do with some of my time. I know it would be a means for me to reach out of my little bubble and impact others. Hopefully, in a positive way. I believe that God wants us all to reach out to others, and where I am right now everyone I know is either involved with a church, or at least familiar with who God is. I am going to have to branch out in order to be of any use to help take God's Love to those who need it most.

There are options for helping in the office area of the jail library, or helping to facilitate a study with the inmates, or even praying one on one with them on library days. I have to keep talking to God, and listening for where He wants me to get involved. Deciphering what I am to do with this knowledge, and sort out the voices in my own head is going to take some time. I wonder what will happen. I hope I don't talk myself into crazy before I figure it all out!