When it Rains it Pours

My mood this week has been awful, as you might expect. I'm finding it difficult to concentrate on anything and just about everything makes me fly into a fit of rage or a veil of tears. I feel incredibly angry, bitter, and frustrated. This is not like me. I admit I've never been "OK" with my little boy being chronically ill but I've never been bitter. I'm falling into the great abyss known as "poor- us-ville", I've never found myself in this dark, lonely place but I have heard about it from other moms. "Poor- us-ville" is no five-star resort, it's more of a Super 8 with a lot of Kleenex.


I'll snap out of it soon I'm sure, but not soon enough for the biggest victims of my rage. My family has had it with me, evidently I've been difficult to live with these last few days. Who knew? But I guess it was pretty obvious to all when I came home from work this evening and the garage door wouldn't open and the dishwasher wouldn't turn on. Both are DEAD. These events only sent me into a deeper tail-spin as I took the stack of today's dirty dishes and started to wash them by hand I found myself screaming at the innocent inhabitants of  "poor- us-ville" as if all my misery was their fault.


I think today has been a shining example of how worn down this life can make you. Certainly a few broken appliances are not cause enough to morph into a tyrannical monster but when you're already holding on to the end of your rope by a few tattered shreds any little thing seems like too much. Especially when you're in "poor- us-ville".