Sunday, February 5, 2017

The Dark Side

I've heard it said that in current society, social media portrays a skewed sense of reality.  People only post what they want you to think about themselves.
So tonight I'm posting the Dark Side. It has been a melancholy day and I'm ending it with a Chromebook in my lap and a glass of amaretto sour. I don't typically drink alcohol, but am so wanting to have a good cry . . . perhaps it may help.

This morning was the Missions Fair at Shandon Baptist Church. I had a booth for the Ladies Sewing Project. This meant that I put out a display with quilts and a sewing machine and shared what we are dong with the pads.  I also spoke in a Sunday school class.

But it was also a day when Jim was leaving for Africa for 2 weeks. 

So I kissed him goodbye and headed to church. Ben would take him to the airport. As I was standing at my booth waiting for people to walk up, I checked fb and This Popped Up:

Mamamarge passed away 5 years ago. She was my biggest cheerleader in life.

My dog Fred has been sick for the last 6 months. This week Jim took him to the vet and then the specialist vet, and $1500 later, we find out he has bone marrow cancer. I've been cleaning up throw up for months. Last week I spent hours creating blankets made out of pee pee pads to put on all the couches and bed to protect the furniture.  I've been sick with a cold most of the past week, so I haven't done much of anything except sleep. My nose has been running, my head and stomach both hurt. I was mad at my husband for hurting my feelings most of the week. Finally forgave him yesterday. I've got guilt that I didn't help him more in his preparations to go to Africa. I've got resentment that I don't get to go this year. I always thought this would be the year I would get to go. And here it is. 2017 and I'm home typing while he is flying. I don't want to work at Blythewood anymore, but I don't want to stay home and not work, either.
I haven't written a Thank You note to my dad and stepmom for Christmas, yet.
And I'm drinking alcohol alone at home alone. I haven't turned on the Superbowl because I just don't care. I took a bubble bath.
I'm sad.
I wish I could cry.
Darned Prozac steals my tears.
And yet, I really do love God. I want to please Him.
But I'm not feeling like a very good Christian tonight.
I'm just wanting to sit here in the big chair and close my eyes, and ask God to wrap his big old hands around me and hold me tight.
It is my Dark Side. It is real.
But His hands are, too.
Hold me, Father. I need you tonight. Amen.

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