Mary arrives home from school, scatters her belongings in the hallway and grumbles all the way to my arms, “Bad day at school?” I ask.
“It was fine,” she scowled, “I’m just tired of wearing my happy face.”
And that’s how I feel today– I’ve worn out my happy face.
For a Mormon woman to admit that she’s feeling ungrateful is something akin to robbing a 7-11. But today I am hurting.
Last year, someone whose role it was to protect me, “threw me under a bus” “used me as a scapegoat” (in his own words) and abandoned me. In the past months I’ve used every tool I can summon– prayer, fasting, long hours of talking, creative projects– to help myself heal. I’ve been doing well, moving on, congratulating myself on my improvement. And so I’m frustrated on days like this when gratitude and joy slip through my fingers. But those wounds, even figurative ones, take time to mend. Some days I just have to walk straight through the pain.
I’ll be better by this afternoon, on time to supervise practicing and take photos in the orchard. And the rest of this week I hope to post happy things– cheerful distractions that ease my heart. Blogland is generally a happy place and so I hesitate to say much– but remember if you are hurting, you are not alone. And those shiny happy blogs are usually people simply working through their own pain.