Been struggling with more than my faith the past few weeks. Besides not being able to comfortably sit for...well, three weeks and counting, hanging out overnight in the hospital when I really would have preferred to be recovering at home and then...well, let's just say tasting a little of the crazy thanks to too much medication and a shot that contained more hormones than any human should really take in at one time...I'd say I'm seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. It is better that I haven't written in a while because the other night I lay in bed thinking about what I would be blogging...and that night it would have been me typing in all caps "WHAT FAITH?!?! Why is this happening? Why are doctors stupid? Why does this still hurt? Why is everyone telling me what not to do when I just want to get back to being tired because I have two preschoolers and I love to cook and clean and live my LIFE!?!?"
First day out of the house...hairdresser. I know, I know, someone writing about faith should have said CHURCH....but don't you GET IT? That is the point of this blog! I struggle. Got it? So, hairdresser. Bad call because it is nearly impossible for me to sit for a few minutes let alone 2 hours to have my hair cut and colored. Anyway...I have run into 3 people who didn't recognize me. I'm not platinum blond like Nicole has been making me for the past 12 months. I needed a change...and I am trying to save money so I figured if I changed to a little darker I wouldn't have to go as often. Why am I telling you? I'm not sure.
Let's be honest. I am telling you because I don't feel like getting to the nitty gritty. In the past three weeks I have totally hit rock bottom. I have screamed at my husband for bringing me fried eggs in bed, cried because someone peed on the floor (not me, thank goodness, HA!), hung up on my mother in law, asked my mother if she could basically quit breathing because she was driving me crazy (God bless that woman...she is a saint), and been generally miserable to be around. I have not been praying. I have not been reflecting on anything but being miserable and unpleasant. Cool, right? So nice. Pity party is over. The bunches of flowers in my room that people so lovingly sent have wilted and been tossed and quite frankly today I am hoping the same thing with my attitude problem. It needs to wilt and head on out with the trash. Since I'm being completely honest, for the past three weeks I have generally hated everyone. The people I usually love and would want to be trapped on an island with, with fruity drinks and fun music....make me want to punch them in the face or run them over with a car. Don't I sound so pleasant?!?! So Lord only knows how I have felt about the people that generally rub me the wrong way. They have been lucky to be spared and it explains why I have holed up in my house like a hermit. Basically between the anesthesia from the surgery, and the shot of goodies I got the week before surgery I have been pushed into the deep end and struggling to find the ladder. So, after a few doctors visits the past two weeks, some tweaking of some supplements and vitamins (hooray for samE and H-something magical) I am slowly dog paddling to the ladder in the hopes of getting out to enjoy the break the lifeguards should have called about a week ago.
And by the way, would someone please remind me to change my iTunes up?! I know some people need to drink to write and apparently I have always listened to some ridiculously emotional music to write but I really...really....don't need more reasons to cry for "no reason" right now.
I have two sweet friends who have tried to throw me life jackets the last few days. One offered to take me to Sonic early in the morning because she knows I smile just driving up to it and thinking about the ice they put in their drinks not to mention the deliciousness that IS Sonic...and the other one emailed me in Target just in time to save me from my homeless person performance on a bench outside by the parking lot. Literally. I was sitting there in sweat pants with a bag of 1/2 gallon organic milks I realized I couldn't carry to the car by myself, sobbing because it was my own fault for being there alone just because I was trying to regain an ounce of my independence. Really? I NEEDED to buy milk at Target alone to feel better? I told you! Psycho.
So, to the people out there that think I have a perfect life and am just a little quirky...I have so much to be grateful for and my bills are paid and I am not naked or barren (well, I wasn't before three weeks ago, sob, but I'm pretty sure I signed the consent for that), I am not homeless (disregard yesterday's performance in the parking lot at Target), both my parents are alive and they are flipping phenomenal, my brother is rad, my kids are tiny, beautiful, healthy, kind, bitty geniuses.....but my life is not perfect...same as your's is not perfect. I don't have time to explain why not, but I'm pretty sure the 13 years of expensive therapy about covers it. Jeepers. 13 years? What do I need to talk about for 13 years?!?! See? Flawed. But it's all good. Because I have God. Even when I push Him away, as far as I can, for weeks at a time. He is there. He shines that flashlight of love under the covers where I am hiding in the same nightgown I wore for three days straight and helps me lift the matted bunch of hair out of my eyes so He can beckon me back into the world. Thank God. Thank you God. And thank you sweet family and friends. Just give me a little time. xoxo
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