M
I'm not generally prone to long bouts of self pity, but today I'm struggling really hard to snap out of a weekend-long pity party (table for one, please).
I started the weekend out by picking a fight with my husband, who honestly maybe deserved a push in the right direction, but not the way I was trying to do it. The worst part is, because I couldn't muzzle my stupid mouth, I made him feel like a bad father. And making other people feel bad because I feel bad only makes me feel even worse.
There's also been a serious lack of sleep going on in my house, what with having a tiny baby around, and a two year old who wakes up at random and straight-up tells me, "No more bed times!"
So, instead of kicking myself and snapping out of the poor-me syndrome, I fed it. Not just fed it, really, but nurtured it, heaped on the injustice and wallowed in it like a pig in mud.
How sad for me that I wasn't getting enough sleep because God blessed me with two beautiful children, children that I'd been desperate for and thought I couldn't have once upon a time.
Poor me.
How terrible that my husband, a man who has forgiven me and accepted me back after I'd run out on him (before we had our first kid), a man who works hard to support us and comes home and gives me a break from the babies, a man who isn't perfect but rarely misses an opportunity to show how much he loves me and our kiddos...
How awful that he wanted an hour to himself to relax.
Poor me.
How unfair that our house is so small, so old, with no place to store things, when there are people out there who haven't even got a place to call home.
Poor, poor me.
Basically, I was a pathetic excuse for a wife and mother all weekend.
This morning, I realized that I spent two full days rounding up every blessing, every gift from God, tearing it apart and throwing it back at Him and saying, "Not good enough."
I've taken some hard knocks in my life...mostly self-inflicted. But over all? I've had it good. Easy. It's been glaringly obvious to me that God has taken care of me, has answered my prayers, has been there every step of the way.
I spent the weekend behaving like a spoiled, ungrateful little brat.
Today, while I don't instantly feel better, I am asking forgiveness and putting my heart, my mind back in the right place.
I started the weekend out by picking a fight with my husband, who honestly maybe deserved a push in the right direction, but not the way I was trying to do it. The worst part is, because I couldn't muzzle my stupid mouth, I made him feel like a bad father. And making other people feel bad because I feel bad only makes me feel even worse.
There's also been a serious lack of sleep going on in my house, what with having a tiny baby around, and a two year old who wakes up at random and straight-up tells me, "No more bed times!"
So, instead of kicking myself and snapping out of the poor-me syndrome, I fed it. Not just fed it, really, but nurtured it, heaped on the injustice and wallowed in it like a pig in mud.
How sad for me that I wasn't getting enough sleep because God blessed me with two beautiful children, children that I'd been desperate for and thought I couldn't have once upon a time.
Poor me.
How terrible that my husband, a man who has forgiven me and accepted me back after I'd run out on him (before we had our first kid), a man who works hard to support us and comes home and gives me a break from the babies, a man who isn't perfect but rarely misses an opportunity to show how much he loves me and our kiddos...
How awful that he wanted an hour to himself to relax.
Poor me.
How unfair that our house is so small, so old, with no place to store things, when there are people out there who haven't even got a place to call home.
Poor, poor me.
Basically, I was a pathetic excuse for a wife and mother all weekend.
This morning, I realized that I spent two full days rounding up every blessing, every gift from God, tearing it apart and throwing it back at Him and saying, "Not good enough."
I've taken some hard knocks in my life...mostly self-inflicted. But over all? I've had it good. Easy. It's been glaringly obvious to me that God has taken care of me, has answered my prayers, has been there every step of the way.
I spent the weekend behaving like a spoiled, ungrateful little brat.
Today, while I don't instantly feel better, I am asking forgiveness and putting my heart, my mind back in the right place.
And good point about the hormones, I hadn't thought of that because it's been over 6 weeks now and I've felt so amazingly GOOD up til just a couple days ago. Now I feel completely thrown off and out of it, so thank you for the encouragement