Sunday, July 3, 2016


This post is part of a series I wrote over the last 6 months and am just now publishing...

I've had a few bad days.

And I'm not one of those people to get over it, move on with life, just keep swimming. I wallow in it. Mentally abuse myself to the point of extreme sadness. Anxiety envelops me, a large mammal takes up its position sitting directly on my chest.

There has been no Wednesday night Mass for two weeks. I can't say that this has added to my state of mind but I do know I feel more peaceful and function better when I get a mid-week dose.

I've been a bad parent. Short tempered. Forgetting things. Letting children down. Yelling. Blaming. Taking my frustrations out on them.

This morning a fight with my husband over how I was treating one child ended with me throwing a coffee cup in the front yard and then berating said child the whole way to school. When I got home I sank down on my knees, started my prayers and then half way through them began crying and begging God to bring that child some comfort today so they didn't have a horrible day because of my issues. I didn't even ask forgiveness. I don't deserve it. I just want him to be okay.

Yesterday the same. Broke down in tears after dropping another child at dance. I forgot to pack her costume for a party and I knew she would be the only one not dressed up. We live 20 minutes from everything so going home and getting it wasn't an option. She was gracious. She completely understood and forgave her forgetful, selfish mother. I on the other hand couldn't handle it. Once I made it back to the safety of my car I collapsed in sadness and anger. The other two sat watching this display. Trying to reassure me it was okay. Why are they having to parent the parent?

I have bickered with my husband for three days. We fight, yell, storm off. And then come back, talk through it, reach an understanding and get along for about 12 hours. Only to have it repeat itself all over again leaving us both frustrated and exhausted. Currently, as of writing this, I'm not talking to him.

And through this a voice keeps telling me I should pray. Pray through it. And sometimes I do. Like this morning. But yesterday I couldn't bring myself to form the words. Just thoughts. The podcast I listened to on the drive home this morning was about Discernment of Spirits. Desolation and consolation and what to do when experiencing each. It made sense to think that in times of abject desolation that an evil spirit is working against you. Planting seeds of sadness and despair. And Father John even pointed out that his spiritual adviser had told him that the great rollercoaster of consolation and desolation swings even higher and lower when you are close to making a big change in life.

When I pray one of my most oft repeated prayers is to Saint Monica, begging for patience. And for her to please ask God to help me be a better mother. And then for God to help me come closer to him and to please soften my husband's heart towards me. Am I missing something here? Am I not giving enough thanks for the blessings I have? Am I not showing how grateful I really am? These things are tormenting me. And all I really know to do is kneel down and pray some more.

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