We lose shit. It's a fact of life, people lose shit all the time. But the difference perhaps is that I intensely hate losing shit. It's the immediate rush of panic that threatens to overwhelm me, starting with adrenaline and sweaty palms as well as a chorus of berating voices. Each time I learn to manage it better, but it still fills me with a sense of anxiety and dread. Not to also mention, feeling completely stupid and hating myself.
A week ago I was carrying several bags and trying to put my wallet away as I reached the top of the escalator, but instead of dropping it into my bag it slipped between the bags. I walked around everywhere, backtracking for several hours then resigned and feeling like a complete failure. I went home feeling utterly defeated and depressed.
This morning I went out with the purpose of making as many new cards as possible. I figured I'd work on the easiest card to most difficult to obtain, so I went to the National Library first. I was confident and comfortable, not at all guilted by the fact I lost my library card, not at all filled with anxiety and dread. Then time seemed to slow when the lady at the computer indicated that my library card had been found. An excruciating 5 minutes later, and several non-religiously affiliated prayers later, they hand me back the wallet I'd lost the week before! I was astounded and grateful. There it was, my fuzzy giraffe-print wallet from Suhaila's workshop in HK, with the giraffe keychain from a kindergarten student.
The ladies at the library counter chastised me, recounted stories of their own wallet-losses, and we laughed - as quietly as possible. They also gave some motherly advice how to separate the cards out so I don't lose all of them in one go. I was lucky - this time... And again thankful that I wouldn't have to go through the whole process. Thank you thank you thank you. To the wonderful person who picked up my card wallet and graciously decided to pass it to the library and will hopefully know how it feels!