another thursday

I keep telling myself to write more.  But sometimes I feel like writing during depression is so sad.  Well, I guess it is.  But I'm trying to force myself to at least get some things out.  I feel like no one really wants to read about my pity party.  But then I remember there are only a few of you who read this and you love me enough to let me hurt.  For that I love you.

I feel awful and I don't know why.  I HATE reading blogs like this so I usually will just not write anything (except for in my journal) that is sad, disappointing or hopeless.  But you know what? That's not real life.  Real life is CONSUMED with sad, disappointing and hopelessness.  There is a woman that I work with who isn't very happy in her life right now.  But she is a Christian and she feels like she has to be "happy" all the time and pretend that life is good so that others will see Christ in her and want that. So I watch her every day work at putting a smile on her face and seem happy.  I know sometimes we have to do that.  I guess I'm not there.  I want others to know Jesus, but not at the expense of being real.  Real feelings sometimes aren't happy.  Real feelings sometimes have to be yelled out at the top of your lungs so God can hear them.  Real feelings create energy for creativity to flow.  Real feelings suck.

I left Drew today to go run errands with a girlfriend.  He was filling out 25 pages of paperwork for the OCS so that we might one day become licensed to do foster adoption.  He is answering questions like, "What are your last 5 addresses" and "In 2 sentences explain your relationship with your parents" and "How do you handle your money"  and " What are your forms of disciplining children" and "What schools would your children be attending" and "What race, age, how many children and what handicaps are you willing to accept" and on and on it goes.....  Not to mention our having to give them copies of every bank statement we have and every important document we've ever needed.  All of this just for fostering, not even for adopting.  It's tiring.  And I don't feel excited about any of it.  I know it's the wisest choice, but again, I don't feel excited about any of it.  I sometimes wonder if I even really want kids.  Maybe it's just too much work.  Maybe I'm just too lazy.  Maybe I wont make a good mother.  Maybe...maybe...maybe.....

I left Drew to fill his portion of that out and I went to hang with a best friend that is pregnant.  It's hard.  I love her.  I love her baby.  But that doesn't take away the fact that it is hard for me to be with her.  And I'm mad that it's hard.  I'm mad that I can't throw her a baby shower because I can't handle it.  I'm mad that I can't hardly talk about it.  I'm mad that I can't be the kind of friend that I want to be and that I am.  I'm mad that I have to feel this way and go through all that I have to go through.  I'm mad that I feel so alone in this.  I'm mad that there are others that have to do the same.  I'm mad that some parents have children that have disabilities that will live with them forever. I'm mad about all of that.            And yet, they have children.  And I have a husband.  And my single friends have jobs and parents.  It's meaningless to look around and compare.  I know this and that's why I try not to do it.  But it's hard when it's the subject at hand--over and over and over again.  I can only hide in my room for so long.  I just feel run down.

I think it would help if I knew what I wanted to do with my life.  I feel I've lost passion for the things I love.  Clearly I have some sort of passion for injustice, but for leisure things I just have no energy.  I'm trying to get out of this house and take walks and breathe.  Some days that happens.  Some not.  My amazing sister just told me, "Just take the next step".  I do like that advice.  But I'm not sure what the next step is.  And frankly, I'm not quite done with my pity party tantrum.