There are moments in life that leave me feeling wrung out like a well-used rag.
In dire need of a refresh.
Some days, some situations, some people… quite simply, some things can just wear you out, completely.
I’ve had one of those weeks.
We all have them.
We generally survive them.
It certainly doesn’t seem so in the midst, in the crux, in the moment.
So I called Dad. Said “Dad, I need to vent.” Then I did.
Just like that. Said it, dumped it, got it off my chest and into perspective.
Then I got response. Dad told me about someone close, someone who was still in the midst, in the crux, in the moment. A dear friend whose son almost died this week, a dear friend who was standing steady in attendance, hoping for her son’s speedy recovery.
For a brief moment during the telling, I was slighted. My important venting, my soul baring, was being brushed aside like a thing not important.
Where was my sympathy, my acknowledgement, my reassurance?
I felt that; I thought that.
It only lasted a moment, that ugly truth, that wretched selfish perspective.
I survived it. I’ve survived much worse. I’ve felt much worse. I’ve reacted considerably worse.
It was a tough week after all – tough for a lot of folks, known and unknown.
Let’s hope for better.