I have had a difficult month+. I have been pretty forthright about it, honestly expressing my feelings - even when unpleasant - and I've been trying to figure what's caused it, as blue funks are rare for me. I was completely bewildered and felt overwhelmed by pretty much everything. While I wanted to live in the joy of the resurrection and the joy of my love for the Lord, life, my son, my friends, my blessings...I was unable to. I was discouraged and looking for the end of it, ready for the encouraging stuff to happen.
It was maddening. I found myself becoming "that girl," the one who cannot have a single conversation without bringing up my singleness. "Where IS he? Why aren't I married? I'm a catch...aren't I?" I have always found "that girl" tiresome and immature, and yet there I was, almost helpless in my wallowing. I was crying in front of my son, and it worried him to the point that he had a difficult time when away from me - leading to guilt about having to work.
I felt my heart hardening from grief and sorrow into anger at my circumstances and my inability to change them. Despite my prayers for the tide to turn, for something encouraging to come my way, on Saturday, the last straw fell: during my kitchen floor repair (water leak from summer 2007), mold was found in my sub-floor and my crawl space. Being told about it by sympathetic friends helped, but they were emphatic: something needed to be done. That something costs between $2500-3500.
I was stoic for a while, then I fell apart. I was confused and foundering, hearing conflicting information from two men I trusted ("Everyone has mold," from Dad, "This is a potential health risk," from the friend). What to do? Prayers for peace were ineffective, and I felt utterly lost.
During church on Sunday, it was as though God lifted a veil and gave me a grip. Something changed to the point that I could look at my life and be wry, as opposed to being in the depths of despair. I looked at the mold in my crawlspace and agree with my father - I've seen more mold on a pizza (we're still fixing it, but at a price I can stomach). Instead of seeing a knight in shining armor as the encouragement I need, I'm praying for a magically potty-trained boy (it could happen) and entry into a preschool I feel good about. I painted my toenails and did an obscene amount of laundry. I've continued to focus on what I am grateful for, and though this practice didn't pull my from my funk, I'm still grateful for a great deal in my life. I sent Blake to Billings for a few days so I could continue to pull myself together, and it worked.
I am sorry to all of you to whom I have whined and complained. That's no fun to be around, and it was pretty selfish of me. While I may have plenty over which to grieve, I'm working on limiting that to appropriate times and places...and focusing on the plenty on which I can delight myself. Join me, won't you?