At this point in my life, I’m still on the fence if I believe in signs from the Universe or not. On the one hand, it’s a warm, pleasant thing to fall back to in a cold and uncertain world, and on the other – science says hard pass. 

 

But it’s getting harder to argue the skeptic’s case when, in the middle of a seriously intense day, a complete stranger goes out of their way to let you know you’re doing great.

 

I’m not known for being effortless, self-assured or easy-going. More so perhaps in my early years, but even then I had my demons that simply hadn’t fully reared their heads yet.

 

The older I got, the more I seemed to worry. And it’s not like there’s a lack of things for one to be preoccupied about in general, it just seems slightly excessive to try and worry about every single one. There’s having lists for things like shopping and necessary documents to go with your job application, or planning your itinerary for an upcoming trip, and there’s preparing for everything in case anything goes wrong. 

 

It’s like your head is a 24/7 ant colony but the ants are hyperactive and extremely chatty. Am I gonna be late again? Why is this guy looking at me, do I have something on my face? Maybe my skirt is on backwards and I look like a clown. How could I say that, I’m the most awkward ever! I forgot someone’s birthday again, I’m the worst friend in the world. And your stomach churns each time, and your head is dizzy. 

 

As a result, when in social situations, I frequently behave like a pigeon that entered the room via a window by mistake and now frantically flings itself about, unable to find the exit. In many ways, that pigeon is in a better position than myself, because it’s not as sweaty, and someone may take pity on its helplessness and throw a towel over it while they carry it outside and set it free, whereas I as an otherwise sane person get the benefit of the doubt that I’ll sort myself out. Which I rarely manage without first enduring days of recovery from utter humiliation. 

 

Over the years I developed some coping strategies such as rehearsing common small talk phrases and going to therapy, but the constant chatter and the overpreparing are still there. The other morning, while setting things up for a day in the park with the kids, I made three types of sandwiches, cut up a dozen types of fruit, fried some falafels and packed several sets of clothes and underwear “just in case”. I briefly considered if rubber boots were also necessary on the occasion it rains, but decided it was too much, while putting every kind of ball and toy car I could find in the bags. Finally, after starting a washer-dryer and making sure the house was half clean, I could go out and temporarily channel my anxiety into interacting with other people instead. 

 

Later that day, after hours of running after kids that are trying to injure themselves in all sorts of very imaginative ways and saying sorry to everyone inadvertently pulled into their antics, I would go on to remember a few interactions and shudder from how much I embarrassed myself. Then, I could spend the evening hours examining my obligations for the near future. 

 

One trick my therapist recommended for my busy everyday life and psyche was to stop myself in my tracks and give myself grace. Stuff like, “look how much you’re carrying – you’re doing amazingly, considering!”. Which is easier said than done when you’re the type of person that can’t decide what tone is appropriate when tipping the pizza delivery guy and ends up just nodding and giving an awkward and simultaneously creepy smile. 

 

I have managed to encourage myself a few times though, like that time when my baby started pushing someone else’s scooter around the playground and, upon returning it, I made a joke about not breaking it and everyone laughed. I was so proud of myself, I didn’t hear the end of it for days. But it’s definitely the exception to the rule and it feels somewhat forced, considering it’s part of a prescribed strategy. 

 

Now, receiving unprompted encouragement from other people is something else entirely. I don’t remember my family doing it very much, but I have been pleasantly surprised by girlfriends and also strangers who, after watching me struggle to keep up with my boys while pushing an overpacked pram, have remarked that I don’t have it very easy. I find such things very validating. I immediately feel the anxiety subside and even allow myself to feel a little proud. It lasts me a good 40 minutes, an hour if it’s a particularly high praise. 

 

And then there’s times like today, when, coming out of the doctor’s office, while putting the baby in the car, I heard a car honking insistently. I looked and saw an older gentleman smiling, waving and giving a thumbs up. I looked again – he was waving in my exact direction. I had no idea what he meant by all that, so I shrugged and he then rolled his window down and very enthusiastically shouted, “Well done!”. And when I asked what for, he just said “Everything!”. 

 

However weird that was, it did feel like a pat on the back. It was a particularly stressful day with the baby getting a vaccine and then having to juggle all the usual chaos. So that recognition, by a perfect stranger who witnessed just a snippet of my daily grind, came at just the right time. 

 

A few more of these, and I may reconsider my position on the signs from the Universe thing.