I had a rather impressive breakdown last night. The tears flowed, my chest heaved, and my breath quickened.

Now, before you judge me for the waterworks, please realize that I have approximately two meltdowns annually (which puts me far ahead of the curve, considering I'm female). Through my halted crying I shared my frustrations, reservations and questions with an old friend; one who had the distasteful task of patiently listening to my self-centered laments.

This particular friend has been a voice of reason in my life for almost a decade. She's grounded, yet hopeful. Assertive with her thoughts, yet humble. Fair, yet always willing to stand in my corner. Last night was no exception.

Except the part that was exceptional, to steal an alliteration tactic from dear Dr. Seuss.

Usually my friend listens quietly, with sincere sighs of resentment at all the appropriate moments, and then responds to each of my struggles with remarkable insight. Last night, however, she replied to my breakdown with a "picture." Yep, an illustration that had been forming in her mind as she listened to my surmounting frustrations. The picture was spectacular in its precision.


She described the tentacles of an octopus, reaching out towards others. Each tentacle inclined towards a thing, trait, talent, or virtue that someone else possessed. My hot tears subsided. Now, the same picture was forming in my own mind, and I was beginning to understand the octopus. The indignation I felt towards someone else was eventually overcome with mercy because I finally recognized the desperation of this tentacle-crazed octopus.

I tell you this story for several reasons:
(1) I am thankful for good friendships. Grateful to be known in my beautiful and repulsive places... yet still loved.
(2) I celebrate that mercy is available to us... to receive and to extend.
and (3) Don't you think it's neat that God gives us pictures as a way of relating to one another? They can be used to explain complex ideas through allegory.

To be fair, I am not confessing some sort of instant emotional recovery. I still feel pangs of resentment when dealing with advancing tentacles.
BUT...
The frustration has lessened because I recognize myself in the octopus. I see that my anger, insecurity, or discontent can harm others. In other words, all my shit isn't just an internal state of being, it hurts others. And so I leave you with this question: In what ways do you relate to the octopus? It's not a fun question, I realize. But imagine the relief we would feel if we were happy in our own skin. Imagine the healing that could take place in our relationships if our tentacles weren't hungry... but satisfied.