Into Each Life....

Yesterday it rained, and it rained, and it rained, both physically and metaphorically.  There was no sunshine, no walking out-of-doors and no gardening, only grayness.  We are not sufficiently into Spring for the rain to make the green glisten, it just matted the brown grass into the even browner mud. There was nothing on TV and even my books seemed drab and boring.  There was nothing playing at the movies that sparked an interest and getting dressed seemed a waste of time.  I fought a losing battle against the forces of gravity that pinned me to my bed or the couch.

And my daughter told me she needed to return to drug rehab.  Another step backwards in a journey that has consumed so much time but covered so few miles. I love my daughter, but I resent the impact on my life of her bad choices.  So I spent the day wallowing in the luxury of self-pity.  It felt good.  I cried a little and slept a lot.  I embraced my martyrdom as only a Catholic girl can do.

I worried if I should share this.  It is intensely personal and I feel shame, both that these things exist in my life and that I am overwhelmed by them.  But I figure you also probably have something that sometimes makes Sunday afternoons last forever.  

This morning the sun shines again.  And I realize my life is no worse than most and better than many.  So, I will do what we all do.  Shake off my self-pity, pick up this burden, hope for the best, find a way to laugh and get on with it.