You see, I used to think that because I am a Christian and can claim God's promises by calling Him on that cheezy heavenly telephone, day or night, I shouldn't feel sad or depressed, EVER.
It makes me feel so much better when other people (especially women) who are in the same life stage as I am tell me that life is hard for them, too.
These last few weeks have been horrible. I don't know why; probably something akin to the sickness you get after finals in college. You've been studying and cramming and not sleeping and now you can rest. So you get sick.
God (I do believe it's God, I do!) has brought to my attention that I spend the majority of my time trying to make others happy. My lovely Mexican-looking husband told me the other night that I need to spend more time taking care of myself.
"But that's selfish!" I thought.
And then I thought about it some more, and realized that when I don't let people know what I need and want, I get angry and frustrated and depressed. I take it out on those I love most, quite passive agressively. I expect people to guess my desires - like some weird human Rubix cube.
Case in point: this trip to Colorado. Many times someone in the group of 47 relatives was going to go off hiking, or go out to eat, or do something fun, and I would have rather stayed at the condo instead of dragging the kids along. I knew one of the kids needed a nap but went against my better judgement. They screamed the whole time, on many separate occassions, and I started resenting other people.
I need to tell people what I need or they will not know what it is that I need.
This week, I need the following:
1. lots of trips to Target
2. no Drudge Report
3. a sign from God that He definitely does exist (no, a miracle performed by this guy will not do, and as an aside, once when I was 13 or so my brother and I were watching him on channel 27 and he didn't know he was on tv and he said the "f" word four times. top THAT, why dontcha...)
4. lots of trips to the playground
5. lots of Diet Coke
What the hell is up with my aversion to the phone? I hate the phone...I almost despise it.
Did I tell you that I smashed my dad's mini van into a guard rail on the way home from the mountains?
Everyone cringed. I started crying and ruing (is that a word) the day I was born.
He looked at it and said, "Ah, it's just a car."
That's the kind of Christian I want to be.