I woke up to a blue-gray sky and lightning flashing right outside my window. I’m looking outside now, through the windows of the WC, and everything is blanketed by a heavy bank of clouds.
Gloomy and dreary and sad, this day has lived up to the mood of the sky. I’ve cried on the bathroom floor twice now, and my work shift is barely halfway over.
My mom told me to think of something good, like “raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens” will counterbalance or outweigh the sad that’s taken up residence in my chest. Like chocolate and Spring flowers will seal up the cracks spreading in my heart.
But here I am, sitting on my couch in my favorite sweater, watching Doctor Who and eating chocolate, until I have to take my dog back to the vet and teach piano.
I was sitting in a rolling-chair at work, looking across the room at a tightly twisted trio of sparkling eyes and harsh laughter. The chair I would usually be sitting in was empty. I hadn’t been invited to sit at the table this time, and it felt like an intrusion to invite myself.
The rumors have started back up, that I’m talking crap about people. And I think I’m defensive because while I’m not talking crap, I’m not speaking as kindly as I could be. Should be. Maybe I’m getting emotional because I’m guilty.
But the guilt stems from words and actions that occurred while I was hurting, because they’ve begun excluding me. Because my mind has been analyzing everything I’ve done in the past month, searching desperately for the things I’ve done wrong that would make them stop wanting me, stop loving me.
I know that doesn’t make it okay.
I’m trying hard to find something good to outweigh this one, but all I can think is that my voice will get drowned out if I try to raise it, if I try out this “transparency and honesty” thing Pastor keeps trying to sell me.
I do know this: the sky was all sorts of lovely today.