Should I type this out?
Should I just leave this in my little black mole skin journal?
I LOVE my journal!!!!
But I also don't want people to think that I am mad at them because I have been acting a bit funny lately.
I REALLY have been acting a bit funny lately.
During the week I am fine. I try my best to find the positive in EVERYTHING. I get so giddy over the smallest little bit of pleasure that is brought into my life: friends coming over, watching the leaves fall from the trees, listening to the laughter coming from my little family, going for long fall hikes around the lake.
But the truth is, we are going through yet another trying time in our lives.
It seems like as soon as we get out of one life trauma (college with a baby, a sudden death in the family, a placenta abruption, an emergency appendix removal, a new pacemaker) something else comes up. I guess that's really just how life roles. I've talked to many people about life and they all have informed me that the crap just keeps on coming. It's just how we deal with the CRAP that makes the difference in our quality of life, not the absence of CRAP. Because there is no such thing as life with an absence of CRAP.
Anytime there is a MASSIVE amount of CRAP in my life I tend to turn inward.
I go the the gym, I go for walks, I snuggle up to read or knit and I journal like cRaZy.
As a future pastoral counselor and normal person, I KNOW that this is a horrible thing to do. I instead need to reach out to people during times of trouble, I need to pray, read, go visit the Monks and sit in silence before God Almighty. I need to climb a tree with a friend.
But honestly, I suck it up, deal with what is before me, the day, and try my best to suck as much happiness out of what I have been given. That's my personality I guess. I'm a lot like the old philosopher in the book of Ecclesiastes. I see doom and gloom all around me, I often think it is better not to have been born at all, yet I enjoy the life that I have been given. I REALLY enjoy the life that I have been given.
Sometimes my "sucking it up and being happy anyway" gets the best of me. The amount of energy it takes to "suffer through it with a smile" burns me out. When that happens I just can NOT do it anymore. I break. I cry. I crawl in my bed, eat too much ice cream and read.
This morning once I FINALLY made it to church (long story of me trying to get two very active children bathed, dressed, fed and out the door all by myself) and was able to sit down, I broke into tears. After trying to make myself look more presentable, like I hadn't just sat in the bathroom floor alone snotting up the whole place, I went to gather my things to go home and climb into my bed with my comfort ice cream and book. A dear friend saw me walk past "are you ok? what's wrong?"
There have been many a time when someone has asked me "what's wrong", only to disappear with fear when I start blabbing about the stress because they REALLY don't want to know what's truly wrong. They decide they don't want to get involved so they walk away.
However, this person was different. Instead of walking away or giving the simple "oh you'll be fine" speech to get me to shut up, she grabbed me, took me to a private place and allowed me to talk while she listened. She then told her story of life stresses (we all have them people) and we both cried together.
I have NEVER had someone do that for me before.
Well, besides my husband, but that's his job. He signed some legal papers 7 years ago promising to sit down with me whenever I have an emotional break down and listen to me. For better or for WORSE. Right?!? (he he)
But this person does not have any obligation to me. She could have walked away thinking "man, what an emotional basket case" but she didn't. She stayed. She listened. She shared in my agony and opened herself up to me about her own fears, stresses and frustrations.
She wouldn't allow me to go home and crawl back into my little black hole of a bed. She forced me to face my fears, stresses and frustrations head on. She allowed me to see that I am not alone in this.
I wish there were more people in the world like her.
She inspires me to be a better person.
To be the person that isn't afraid to reach out to someone who is hurting. To be the person
who isn't afraid of sharing my deepest sorrow in order to help someone through their darkest days.