feeling blue

I'm generally a fairly happy person.  I may have mentioned this before.)  I'm in the middle of a blue period.  I don't care for it.  It's day 3 of unhappiness and it's a form of torture to be here.  I just want it to stop.

I think...  I need more coffee.  (because coffee is always the answer... oh wait, no that's Jesus.  Jesus is always the answer.)
Coffee doesnt help.
Chocolate?  No dice.
Yes, I am reaching out to Jesus.  I'm praying though not enough.  I'm so uncomfortable that I find myself playing the Netflix and Escape game more than the be still and wait on God responsible activity.

I know --I hope/I believe -- being still and letting God closer will make me feel better.  Why don't I do it?  What silliness or contention is stopping me from at least some kind of relief?  I do not understand myself.

The struggle is real my friends.  It is real.

So I think about how other people feel this way all the time.  I think, man, I'm so happy this isn't too constant in my life.  It's such a burden to bear.  My heart softens a little at this thought.  It is a burden to carry these emotions around.  To be kind to others when you're finding it difficult to be kind to yourself.  To share a smile or work hard at your job when you feel like there is something wrong inside to the point of distraction.

I sit with that for a bit.  It's been banging around inside my head all day actually.  As one of my favorite bloggers reminds us... DEPRESSION LIES!  I know it's not truth.  I wish so much that I could help others understand just how much depression lies and that we can be free of the spiral of self hatred and unhappiness and dissatisfaction.

So... tonight.  I will try to spend more time with God.  I will try to do something productive that I can at least have a few checkmarks on my day as accomplishments.  And tomorrow.  Tomorrow is another day.  (yeah, I just did that.)

Recipe for a better day:

• good nights sleep
• start with God
• COFFEE
• practice smiling
• take a little extra time getting ready so I feel good about myself
• try to stay busy at work
• go on a walk at lunch
• eat decent
• B vitamins

We'll see how I do.

Anger

I'm so angry.

I'm angry with my prodigal boy and his seemingly determined decisions to NOT move forward in life.

I'm angry at his failure to launch.

I'm angry at my failure as his mother to better prepare him for launching.

I'm angry at my bulldozer personality that so often chose not to listen to his father, but was so set on my own way being the right way.

I'm angry at all the things I know I did wrong as a parent.

I'm angry at my prodigal for refusing to stay on medication and allow it to do him some good.

I'm angry at him for letting depression get a foothold constantly and thus making forward motion that much harder.

I'm angry that he refused to work more and have the money needed to take care of himself.

I'm angry at all the things that have transpired that make  our finances so difficult and scary.

I'm angry at our landlord for not fixing all the things we want fixed.

I'm angry that I  hate cleaning and see such evidence of that around me.

Did I mention I'm angry?

For the love of prodigals

My prodigal is my first born.

He has always been a spirited child.  He is high energy and curious and takes after his mother and my slightly contentious attitude.

He is charming.  He can light up a room and make someone feel good about themselves.

He is engaging.  He is passionate.  He gets involved in something and wants to take it on.  He wants to master something and be good at it, but sometimes gets discouraged at the difficulty.

I know all mothers think their children are attractive, but my son is attractive.  His big brown eyes and the puppy dog look he's mastered over the years can sway you.

He's articulate.  You often don't realize he's as young as he is when talking to him because he sounds older and more mature than he really is.

He can write beautifully.  There is a poet inside of him.  His stories and lyrics are beautiful.

I just wanted to write some beautiful things about my prodigal to remind myself they are there.