This weekend stunk.
Ok. There were good moments – several, where R-kids are concerned – but moving from one to the next, and enjoying them when they came, was hard. Really hard.
Still because of that frickin’ AHBL.
I hate that healing is taking so long. I’m bummed that this weekend was so hard. I’m frustrated (and frankly a little humiliated) that I’m still struggling. In fact, last week I began to suspect that probably I’m not moving fast enough – I’m probably wallowing in a world-record pity party.
When Miss Sarah caught wind of that, she said two things. One is that how I’m feeling two months later is proof of how big AHBL was. It fits. (Ugh. That is both validating and depressing…)
She also wondered what it would be like if I tried being frustrated with AHBL—instead of myself.
I tested it out:
“I’m frustrated with myself for still reeling in confusion and recovering from this trauma. Why haven’t I just gritted my teeth and put on a smile and moved on already so the people around me don’t have to listen to, look at, live with, support and/or read about a whiny friend/mom/daughter/sister/blogger. After all, plenty of people have it worse than me…”
Then I tried:
“I’m really, really frustrated—downright angry—that All Hell Broke Loose in my life—and that I’m left here to deal with it.”
I see her point.
by julie rybarczyk
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The photo above was taken by R-boy while I was venting to my sweet friend Jamie in the sanctuary after church today. I’m not even sure how he got this shot, but he captured my emotion perfectly.
